


Sólo Empeora

by Thatoneguyeveryoneknows



Category: Better Call Saul (TV)
Genre: Better Call Saul - Freeform, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Drug Use, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Reader-Insert, better call saul spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-15 16:30:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18673366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thatoneguyeveryoneknows/pseuds/Thatoneguyeveryoneknows
Summary: This is basically just a reader insert of each episode of Better Call Saul. I'm throwing in some nacho x reader because I'm in love with Michael Mando





	1. Uno

**Author's Note:**

> So I love the show but thanks to my constant identity crisis I decided to make a reader-insert fanfic of the episodes because why not? Comments would be highly appreciated! Thanks for reading

Jimmy was having a rough day.

First he got screwed over with the three future serial killers’ trial, then the old man in the booth forced him to go back inside to get more stickers, Betsy Kettleman shot him down, and now he was in a rush to get back to the nail salon before Mrs. Nguyen got back from lunch. He was currently trying to order flowers to be sent to the Kettleman’s. Just as a way to keep him in mind for their upcoming legal issues.

“Okay, and the key word here is classy, alright? Shoot for classy,” Jimmy said into his cell phone as he sped down the street, only going five miles over the speed limit. “Use only flowers that look expensive. But, you know, aren’t.” Jimmy paused for a brief moment, waiting for the florist to catch up. “And the note should say ‘Dear Betsy and Craig, best wishes from your stickler for justice. -James McGill’. Okay and McGill’s spelt M-C…” 

The florist cut Jimmy off, saying his card was declined. He felt a headache start to form just above his eyes. “Well run it again.” The florist argued. “Well no, no, no, it’s paid up, run it again,” Jimmy retorted just as he turned a corner. 

No more than two seconds later, there was a gangly teenager crashing into the hood of his car, causing a loud thud and his windshield to shatter. Jimmy dropped his phone to grab the wheel, screeching his car to a halt as the teen landed on the pavement a few feet back. Jimmy sat motionless for a few seconds, trying to get his breathing under control. He took a gulp of air and made his way out of the car, just hoping the kid wouldn't need any expensive medical care.

As he walked toward the groaning skater, his knees practically shaking, another teen came running over.

“Oh god, oh god, Cal,” the other teen shouted as he collapsed next to his apparent twin brother. “Look at me! Look at me!” He glanced up at Jimmy, a glare etched onto his face. “What did you do?!” Jimmy held up his hands in apology.

“I didn't do anything,” he argued quietly, the injured twin still groaning in pain.

“What did you do to my brother,” the kid shouted. “Look where you're going!” Jimmy gestured to the road.

“I was making a turn, he came out of nowhere!”

“You freaking hit him man! You ran him over! You ran over my brother! I got the whole thing on video,” the teen shouted, his voice growing louder as he held up a camcorder in his hand. Jimmy gave the device a questionable look but quickly turned his attention back on the brother still laying in the road.

He was sitting up on his elbows, looking between his brother and Jimmy as he said softly, “it was an accident, it was an accident. He didn't mean to.” He tried to shift to get up but when he moved his left leg he immediately shouted in an unconvincing scream, grabbing it tightly.

“It's broken! You broke his leg,” his brother shouted. “You're driving around and not looking?! Breaking people's legs?!” He jumped up and looked around at the mostly empty neighborhood around them. “Somebody call the cops!”

A new wave of panic rushed over Jimmy and he took a few steps closer, his voice lowered as he tried to get the redhead to quiet down. “Don't call the police, don't call the police!” The apparently injured skater continued to shout in pain.

The teen ignored him and turned to a few landscapers working nearby. “Policía!” The landscapers simply looked at him in confusion, not moving to go to a phone. The twin shook his head and pulled out his own cell phone. “I'm doing it myself!”

Jimmy stepped even closer, his voice becoming desperate. “Don't call the police, don't call the police!” The kid paused, looking up at Jimmy with a confused expression.

“Don't call the cops?”

“No!”

“How are you gonna fix this? What are you gonna do to make this right,” the uninjured twin asked, holding his flip phone out as a threat. Jimmy felt himself relax and let out a tired chuckle. He knew what they were up to.

“I don't know, fellas. What can I do to make it right?”

Jimmy watched as the two brothers shared a knowing look, both hesitating before speaking, as if they had to think about it.

The suddenly healthy brother looked up and offered, “I don't know. $500?” Jimmy gave him a disbelieving sigh.

“$500,” he asked. The two nodded.

Jimmy paused for a second before he kicked the previously broken leg of the idiot laying on the ground. 

The idiot stood up and shouted “ow, what the hell man?!”

“Listen, Starlight Express, I’m gonna give you a 9.6 for technique, 0.0 for choice of victim! I’m a lawyer,” Jimmy said, his tone now angry. He took pleasure in the terrified expression on the matching faces. “Furthermore,” he continued, pointing at his barley standing car, “does this steaming pile of crap scream payday to you, huh? The only way that entire car is worth $500 is if there’s a $300 hooker sitting in it!”

Jimmy held out his hand as if waiting for the two to offer him something. “Now let's talk about what you owe me for the windshield.”

The brothers wasted no time in grabbing their skateboards and rushing past, fleeing the scene and Jimmy’s anger. He called after them, if just for dramatic affect, “I'll take a check!”

That was hours ago, but Jimmy was still stewing on it. That and the argument he'd had with Hamlin. And the two he'd had with Chuck. But now Jimmy was alone and ready to relax after a particularly stressful (and he doesn't use that word lightly) day. He had just gotten back to the nail salon and was winding down with some refreshing cucumber water. Sitting in his creaky office chair, leaning back and staring at the holes in the ceiling, he thought about all that he had to do the next day; trying to think of a time when he could bring his car in to get the windshield replaced and how much it would cost.

After several minutes of mental math, he finished off his water and sat up in his chair, about to get ready for bed. As he was about to stand up his answering machine caught his eye and he decided to check to see if he had any messages before he went to sleep.

Not expecting much, he keyed in his password and to his honest surprise the machine told him he had one new message. He scrambled to find a piece of paper and a pen to write down any contact info that the possible client might give him just as a soft, yet somewhat annoyed, female voice spoke up through the machine.

“Hello, is this Mr. McGill? This is y/n y/l/n. I'm a relative of the boys who tried to scam you earlier today.” Jimmy set down the pen and eyed the machine with both a confused and worried expression, as if the little plastic box was the one talking to him. 

“I'd really like to speak to you about what happened. Could you please give me a call back? My number is 505-555-1040. Thanks.” The machine beeped signaling the message was over but Jimmy sat there for a long while, staring at it as he tried to think of what to do. 

He had decided to sleep on it but the following morning he still had no clue what he was going to do regarding the girl on the answering machine. What would she do if he called her back? Blame him for the whole incident? Sue him? She had said that Dumb and Even Dumber had scammed him, so maybe she was on his side? Maybe she wanted to apologize? 

Jimmy thought of all of this as he got ready in his cramp office/living space. And by the time he was dressed and ready for the day he decided to take his chances and call the hopefully kind and wealthy relative back.

“Hello, is this miss y/l/n,” Jimmy asked into his cell phone.

“Yes,” asked the voice from last night.

“I'm sorry to call so early in the morning, this is Jimmy McGill.”

“Mr. McGill,” the woman said, suddenly sounding more awake. “How are you?”

“I'm fine. I got your message from last night, you said you'd like to speak with me,” Jimmy asked, getting his things together for the day as he spoke.

“Yes, I would. Are you free for breakfast?” Jimmy glanced at his watch. 

“I have time,” he answered, excited at the idea of an actual meal instead of just whatever he could scrounge up at vending machines at the courthouse.

“Great! Wanna meet at Loyola’s on Central? They have great coffee,” the woman suggested.

“Sounds great. I can be there in fifteen.”

“Great. See you then.” 

Jimmy hung up his phone and gathered the rest of his things before heading out the door. He felt anxiety bubble in his stomach as he bid good morning to all the women who were just now coming in for work. As he got in his car, the windshield still shattered, he pushed the nervousness away. She seemed nice enough, and if it is a trick I'll just threaten them right back. Damage to property, emotional trauma; they'll be begging for my forgiveness. Jimmy smiled to himself. The worst that can happen is a shitty breakfast and I have to pay for the windshield.

He pulled into to diner’s parking lot ten minutes later. He went in and didn't see anyone looking for him so he sat down at a booth near the entrance, ordering just a coffee as he waited to see if this mystery person was even going to show.

He didn't have to wait long ‘til a young, almost dauntingly beautiful woman walked in, looking around the diner until her eyes settled on Jimmy’s. She gave him a polite smile and walked over to where he sat.

“Mr. McGill,” she asked. It took Jimmy a moment to respond, his words seemingly caught in his throat.

She was younger than he was expecting. Mid-to-late twenties, maybe early thirties. She had gorgeous y/c/h that framed her face perfectly and she wore a denim jacket over a white dress that both moderately covered and accentuated her figure.

“Yeah, hi,” he offered weakly, his thoughts finally coming back to the present. She smiled brightly and held out her hand for him to shake. That too took him a moment.

“Mr. McGill, it's so nice to meet you,” she greeted.

“Call me Jimmy.” He gestured to the seat in front of him. “Please, sit.” With a smile y/n did so, setting her purse in the booth next to her. 

“Have you ordered yet?”

“No, just the coffee. I didn't think you'd actually show,” Jimmy said with a nervous chuckle. Y/n chuckled as well.

“Yeah, I can see why you'd think that. I'm so sorry for Cal and Lars’ behavior. They're not the smartest idiots roaming the streets.” Jimmy laughed at her joke, feeling his face heat up when he saw her smiling at him. He cleared his throat and tried to calm down just as the waitress, Fran, came back over to get y/n’s order, much to Jimmy’s appreciation.

“What can I get you, y/n?”

“My regular, please. And anything he'd like,” the woman answered, looking back over to Jimmy. 

“Oh,” Jimmy said surprised before he looked at his menu, quickly scanning it to find anything that looked good. “I'll have the ‘hearty man’s breakfast’.”

“Good choice,” the waitress said before grabbing their menus from them. “I'll be right back with that.”

“Thanks, Fran,” y/n said as she walked away.

“You a regular here,” Jimmy asked with a smile.

“Oh yeah. This is my go to,” y/n answered, returning his smile with one of her own.

“Well you were right about the coffee,” he said before taking a sip.

“It's so good, right? Would you believe it's Colombian Decaffeinated Water Crystals?” Jimmy laughed at her reference, gaining annoyed stares from some of the patrons around them.

After he calmed down he said, “you know, you are not what I was expecting.”

“What did you expect,” y/n asked, throwing Fran a thank you as she gave her her own coffee.

“Well you're related to those two Big Bird clones, right? I was expecting someone tall and lanky, curly red hair.” Y/n nodded with a smile.

“We're only related by marriage, not blood related,” she explained.

“Ah, that makes more sense,” Jimmy joked. Y/n chuckled before her smile fell and she grew more serious. She grabbed her coffee cup anxiously as she looked back up at him.

“Jimmy, I want to sincerely apologize for what happened. What they did was totally disrespectful and out of line, I'd completely understand if you wanted to take legal action.”

“What did those two bozos tell you happened,” Jimmy asked, trying to make the conversation light again.

“They said they were trying to make some money by scamming drivers and they tried to trick some guy who was a lawyer, and they were scared he was going to sue them. So they gave me your license plate number and I tracked you down,” y/n explained.

“They memorized my license plate?”

“They said it was part of the scam,” y/n said, shaking her head in disappointment. Jimmy chucked and the two sat in silence for a beat.

“Why did they go to you though? Why not they're most definitely grossly tall parents?” Y/n chuckled.

“I went to law school for like two years, so I guess they thought I could get them out of it.”

“Ah,” Jimmy said, nodding his head in understanding, “well you'll be happy to know I don't plan on taking legal action.” The woman across from him breathed a deep sigh of relief.

“Thank god. Please let me pay for a new windshield though,” she insisted.

“You? Not your wonderful cousins,” Jimmy asked.

“I'm sure they'll promise to pay me back but it probably won't happen.”

“And they couldn't make it today,” Jimmy asked sarcastically.

“Would you believe they were busy,” y/n said, matching his sarcasm. The two laughed until Fran came back with their food, setting their plates down in front of them.

They thanked her and fell back into silence, both content with eating their meals. As Jimmy ate he thought about the two failed Tony Hawk impersonators and their scam and the old scams he used to pull. And he thought up an idea.

“Do you know where they'd be right now,” he asked. Y/n gave him a confused look before answering.

Not an hour later and Jimmy found himself at a skatepark, looking around for the two assholes who had the cojones to try and scam him. He found them again making terrible decisions (no surprise there). One was laying on the ground recording the other as he skated right past his head and jumped over him. Jimmy cleared his throat to get their attention.

“Hey Fellas. We got business.”

The one skating stopped in his tracks and the other jumped up to his feet.

“How'd you find us,” the one who Jimmy thought he hadn't hit asked. Jimmy smirked and looked around at their surroundings; a skatepark filled with other dumbasses who looked just like them.

“I know. Eerie right?”

“Did y/n tell you,” the other twin asked.

“What me and miss y/l/n discussed is none of your business. The two slowly started to back off, obviously thinking about making a run for it. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold on.” They paused. “Give me thirty seconds. Could be the most profitable thirty seconds of your lives.” The brothers shared a look and decided to stay, though they still looked like they were ready to book it at any second. Jimmy grinned. He knew he had them.

A couple hours later they stood on a street corner where Jimmy was going over his plan.

“Okay. Now, I'm Mrs. K's white knight. We go mano a mano. You light into me, okay? Get nasty.” The twin who Jimmy now knew as Lars nodded. “And no touching. Leave the hair alone. But otherwise, you know, open season. Yell. Stomp. Call me a douche bag.” The two snickered to each other and Jimmy repressed an eye roll. “I'm gonna play it cool, give you back some of the razzmatazz. And once she's seen the fireworks, you fold like a lawn chair. Happy ending.”

“When do we get our money,” the other one, Cal, asked.

“After.”

“After?”

“After. You get paid when I get paid. I'm the rising tide that raises all dinghies,” Jimmy argued. “Now, pop quiz What's the car?” The two thought for a brief moment.

“Mercury sable wagon,” Cal answered.

“Baby poop brown,” Lars added.

“So, do you know me?”

“No,” they said in sync.

“Damn straight, go with God,” Jimmy said, clapping them both on the arms before he walked off back to his car.

About an hour later he was parked outside of the Kettlemans’ house, waiting for Betsy to leave to pick up her kids so their plan could be set into motion.

“Well, I'm just glad I happened to be passing by. Happy to be of help, Betsy. May I call you Betsy? Please, call me James,” he rehearsed. “Oh, the kid will be fine. Don't worry. He just got his bell rung a little. I'll handle that. Oh, no. Oh, no, no. I wouldn't think of, uh, taking your money for this.”

In the distance Betsy climbed into her car and pulled out of her driveway. Jimmy didn't notice, too lost in his own thoughts.

“The embezzlement case? Yes, I'd be happy to talk it over.” Jimmy was pulled back into reality by Betsy driving towards him. “Oh shit!” He ducked down just as she passed, pulling out his cellphone to call Lars. “Two minute warning, two minute warning!”

“Got it,” Lars answered over the line.

Jimmy hung up and sat up, looking around to be sure no one was looking. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. All he could do now was wait and pray to whoever was running the show up there that nothing would go too wrong before he got here. His nervousness grew and grew as the minutes ticked by. 

“Funny to run into you, Betsy. I was just, uh, strolling the neighborhood. You were in accident. Oh it’s…” he trailed off as he checked his watch.

Should they have called him by now? They definitely should have called. What did they do? Suddenly his phone rang and Jimmy jumped to answer it. 

“Yeah?”

“She took off on us,” Lars shouted.

“She what,” Jimmy asked, shocked.

“It was textbook, man, we were diamonds. But then she just took off.” Jimmy shook his head in disbelief.

“Okay, wait, she hit and run,” he asked.

“That's what I'm saying, she bailed and wailed!”

“Okay, just stay where you are, I’ll come get you,” Jimmy said as he grabbed his keys.

“Nah, screw that man, we’re following her.”

“Following her? How,” Jimmy asked.

“We got our ways, yo.” Jimmy rolled his eyes

“Okay, new plan, new plan, you do know me, I’m your lawyer, you got that? I’ll meet you at the school.”

“She’s way past the school. She hooked a left on Juan Tabo, and she's coming into Holiday Park,” Lars explained.

“Okay, stay with her. When she gets where she's going, wherever that is, just don't do anything. Wait for me,” Jimmy demanded.

“Wait for what? You haven't been right even once! Slippin' Jimmy, my ass!” Jimmy shook his head as if they could actually see him.

“You fell into the honeypot, kid. You get it? Hit-and-run is a felony,” he explained.

“So what?”

“‘So what’?!” Jimmy felt his headache from yesterday return. “So more money!” Jimmy hung up and tried to start his car only for it to refuse. He groaned and grabbed his phone again, calling Lars back but only getting his voicemail. He hung up and threw his cell into his passenger seat before he tried again to get the car to start.

The engine finally roared to life, though it protested loudly, and Jimmy sped down the street, heading back to where he had last seen the boys.

“Fuck,” he shouted before he followed Lars’ directions and turned onto Juan Tabo, just hoping he'd spot them or Betsy. He tried calling Lars but again just got his voicemail. He sighed and went through his recent contacts, selecting y/n’s number.

“Hello,” she answered.

“Y/n,” Jimmy asked, trying to control his breathing so he didn't sound too worked up.

“Jimmy? What's going on?”

“I was just wondering if your two wonderful cousins had contacted you recently. As in in the past couple minutes?”

“What did they do,” she asked, immediately seeing through his bullshit. Jimmy sighed and turned into Holiday Park.

“I fear they may be in a sort of,” he paused to think about his wording, “sticky situation.”

“Where are they,” y/n demanded.

“I don't know, I'm trying to find that out,” Jimmy answered honestly, looking around for any signs of them or Betsy. 

Suddenly he spotted two skateboards in the yard of a house where a car that looked distinctly like the Kettlemans’ was parked. “That's them,” he shouted, mostly to himself.

“Where,” y/n asked.

“Um, 736 on Veranda road. Near Holiday Park,” Jimmy answered as he slammed his car to a stop.

“Oh, I'm in the area! I'll be there in five! Don't let them do any things stupid,” y/n pleaded.

“Can do,” Jimmy answered before hanging up and getting out of the car.

He walked towards the door, fixing his appearance as he went. As he neared the car he saw that the windshield was cracked. He sighed and ran up to the door, knocking loudly to hopefully stop the twins from doing whatever they were doing inside.

“Open up, officer of the court,” he shouted for extra measure. He tried to peer in through the window but found that he couldn't. He went back to banging on the door. “Open up in the name of the law!” He stepped back as the door slowly started to open. “Good afternoon…”

He was cut off by a gun being pointed directly in his face. Jimmy went silent and slowly raised his hands in surrender. A rough hand pulled him into the house by his coat before the man stuck his head outside, looking around, before he ducked back inside, closing and locking the door behind him.


	2. A Day Full of Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy and y/n deal with the consequences of some bad decisions. They both make a new friend/colleague/kidnapper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shit this episode had a lot of dialogue. Sorry for the long chapter hope you enjoy

Jimmy was pulled into the house by a shorter, Mexican man, who held the gun like he definitely knew how to use it. Jimmy watched as the man checked outside. As he did Jimmy raised his hands in the air to show that he was no threat to him, as if the man couldn't automatically tell. 

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa, oh man,” Jimmy said, trying not to let his voice get too high. “I'm relaxed, okay. Non-threatening.” The man came back inside, closing and locking the door. 

“You move and you're dead,” the man warned calmly.

“Alright.”

The man patted him down quickly before he turned Jimmy and lead him into the living room, keeping his gun aimed at his back. Jimmy walked slowly, partially because he didn't want to give the armed man the idea that he was up to something, but mostly because he could hardly get his legs to move.

“There seems to be a misunderstanding, is there by any chance a Betsy Kettleman here,” Jimmy tried. The man didn't answer. “I’m not sure if this is a situation where I should or should not look you in the eye,” he continued, keeping his head ducked as the man stopped him and went to stand in front of him.

“Sit,” he said simply, ignoring what his unwilling guest was just saying. Jimmy eyed the chair next to him before looking back at the stranger. He didn't want to be put into an even more vulnerable position. 

The man got tired of waiting and pushed him into the chair before asking, “Who are you? Are you with those red headed scumbags?”

“My name’s James McGill, I’m an attorney. I got a call from some clients, something about an accident. I did not get any details. When I saw some skateboards in your front lawn, I assumed they might,” Jimmy trailed off, hoping the man who just sat there staring at him, gun still aimed, would believe him. It was then that an elderly woman appeared at the top of the nearby stairs. The man jumped up to face her, hiding the gun behind his back.

“Mijo. Mijo,” the woman said as she came to a stop. 

Jimmy eyed the gun. Maybe he could grab it and make an escape. But what if he wasn't able to get to out of his grip? And if he did was he really able to pull the trigger? Jimmy looked over to the stain on the carpet that the two were now talking about. He felt his throat close up. Who's was it? One of the twins? Betsy’s? Who was this guy? Jimmy looked back up at the man, he was waiting for the woman, probably his grandmother, to go back to her room before he again faced Jimmy and again aimed his gun at him.

“Talk,” he said bluntly.

“I’m gonna make an educated guess what happened here,” Jimmy started. “My two clients, Frick and Frack, the mop heads, were in a simple traffic accident. A minor fender bender, but maybe they were on the wrong side of the street or didn’t look both ways. It could happen to anyone. My clients, exhibiting extremely poor judgement, followed your grandmother to this delightful, well-tended home,” he said while gesturing to the room around them.

“Now, at this juncture I’m deducing that they said or did something that crossed a line. And you, with some justification, put them in their place. Based on the salsa stain there, it could have gone a couple ways. Bottom line, not to be morbid, but if they’re dead, I’m guessing that I’m,” he paused to calm himself down. “I’m gonna go with glass half full here and say they’re not,” Jimmy paused briefly, waiting to see if the man would cut in, but after seeing that he was content with just staring at him and waiting for him to finish, Jimmy continued.

“My point is, if they’re still alive, why kill us, because of a misunderstanding? Our own stupidity? Why mess up your lovely Abuelita’s place? Why jump to the nuclear option? I’m saying keep it simple. I will collect my moronic clients, and poof! We are gone. Neither you nor your lovely Abuelita will lay eyes on us ever again. Guaranteed. Signed sealed and delivered. Assuming, you know, that they’re still breathing,” Jimmy ended, only slightly out of breath.

The man sat there for a second, just staring at him. 

“Wow, you've got a mouth on you.”

“Thank you.” 

“Get up.”

Jimmy stood on his shaking legs and the man started to lead him out of the room, but paused when there was a knock on the door. Jimmy felt his heart drop. Y/n. He'd forgotten he'd called her. The man grew visibly agitated, going to stand in front of Jimmy and again shoving the gun in his face.

“Who's that, huh? Did you call the cops,” he demanded.

“No, no, no. Not the cops,” Jimmy said, his voice growing louder. The man gave him a look that could only be described as a warning. Jimmy lowered his voice as he explained, “a relative of the kids. I called her when I saw their skateboards.” The man eyed him warily before pushing him towards the door. He pushed him up against the wall and pointed the gun at him as he unlocked and opened the door just enough to poke his head out.

“Yes?”

“I'm sorry to bother you but I'm looking for my cousins,” y/n explained. Jimmy again eyed the gun but he'd be putting y/n’s life in danger too if he were to try anything. He held his breath and waited to see what the man would do.

“There's no one here,” he said before he started to close the door. Jimmy felt his shoulders slump in relief but that didn't last long when he heard y/n put her hand on the door, stopping him from closing it. The man groaned in annoyance and opened the door back up. “What,” he barked.

“I'm sorry sir, but their skateboards are on your lawn and my friend's car is parked in your driveway.” Jimmy could only imagine the glare he was giving her right now, he could feel it through the door. “Look, I'm sure they did something stupid and you're in no way at fault but I need to come in so we can handle it,” she tried. 

The man paused for a moment before he said in fake innocence, “yeah, you can come in.” Jimmy's mouth opened to shout a warning but nothing came out as the man opened the door, hiding the gun and Jimmy behind it as y/n walked in. 

As soon as she was far enough inside he slammed the door and locked it, causing y/n to jump. She turned around to face him just as he raised his gun. “Don't scream,” he said venomously. Y/n slowly raised her hands as she looked over at Jimmy who was giving an apologetic grimace. “Why are you here,” the man asked.

“Jimmy called me,” she answered, gesturing to the scared man behind him. “He said my cousins were in trouble and gave me this address.”

“Is he their lawyer,” he asked, testing Jimmy’s story. Y/n looked behind him where Jimmy had his eyes squeezed shut, praying to her that she'd say the right thing.

“Yeah. He's their lawyer,” she answered evenly. The man nodded and lowered his gun slightly, much to the relief of everyone else in the room.

“My abuelita came home, saying she'd hit one of the kids with her car.” Y/n nodded her head in understanding. “They followed her home, scared the shit out of her, asked for money,” he said, emphasizing the word “money” as he stepped closer to her, trying to scare her. To both his and Jimmy's surprise she didn't back up and instead simply raised her head to look up at him.

“Sir, I'm so sorry. They're both morons, that's obvious, and you’re completely justified to do whatever it is you did to them. How about we just grab them and be on our way and we never bother you again,” y/n said, her voice much more steady than Jimmy's when he gave his earlier pitch. The man looked down at her, his expression unchanging as he mulled over his options. He finally spoke up.

“That way,” he said gesturing down the hall with his gun. Y/n and Jimmy started walking slowly, the man following behind them. 

“What's going on, Jimmy,” y/n asked quietly.

“I'm not sure yet,” he answered.

“Where are they?”

“Not quite sure about that either.”

“Stop talking,” the man said from behind them. The two tensed up, going silent. 

The man walked them to the garage, opening the door to show Beavis and Assclown laying tied up on the floor, their mouths covered with duct tape and both of their heads bloody from a hit. They started shouting through the tape once they saw y/n and Jimmy walk inside. The man pulled out a knife and handed it to Jimmy.

“Should I cut them loose,” he asked uncertainly as he took the knife from his hand. The man gave him an annoyed look and Jimmy looked over to y/n who gestured her head urgently towards her injured cousins.

Jimmy gulped and walked over to them, taking the tape off the closer one, maybe Lars’, mouth.

“It was him! It was all his idea,” he immediately shouted. Jimmy turned around to the man who now looked far angrier and who now held his gun with far more intent. 

“No, no, no,” Jimmy argued. Y/n buried her face in her hands, knowing her idiot relative had just doomed them all.

“Shut up,” the man shouted at Jimmy before he looked down at the bloody burn out. “Say what?”

“He wanted to scam you, he said we could clear two grand easy.”

“Lars, shut up,” y/n said desperately. The man ignored her and looked up at Jimmy. 

“You punking me?” He cocked his gun and walked closer. “Are you punking my abuelita?”

“He hit his head. He doesn't know what he's saying,” Jimmy tried. He shut up when the man leaned down, still looking Jimmy in the eye, as he placed his gun against Lars’ temple. Jimmy looked up to see y/n gasp, taking a step forward to stop him but thinking better of it and stopping. She held her hands out as if she could calm down the man who wasn't even looking at her.

“For what are you getting two grand,” he asked simply.

“For going after your grandma. Just for taking a header over at the corner. It was him I swear, it was the lawyer,” Lars immediately folded. Y/n’s brow deepened in anger and she closed her eyes as she tried to think of what to do.

Jimmy’s mind however was completely blank as the man rose up to his full height, again aiming his gun square at Jimmy's chest.

It felt like hours later when Jimmy was thrown to the ground, he hands tied and a bag over his head. The man had tied him and y/n up and put duct tape over their mouths before some other men arrived. They threw them and the wonder twins into the back of a van before putting the bags over their heads. They'd driven for about thirty minutes, but Jimmy could've been off on the timespan, and they'd come to a stop out where there was no noise of the city, just the sound of the wind and the harsh desert sun.

He heard y/n fall with a thud next to him and he flinched at her pained groan. He looked over in the general direction of the noise but couldn't see anything through the bag. A hand reached down and pulled it off his head and suddenly it was too bright as Jimmy's eyes tried to adjust to the bright light. He sat up on his knees and grimaced as the man ripped the tape off his mouth. He watched as one of the men who'd loaded them in the van, a henchmen, did the same to y/n. 

When she sat up she glanced over at Jimmy before looking over at her cousins who lay nearby. She gave them a worried expression but her attention was quickly brought back to the man, who'd the henchmen had called Tuco, who went over to stand in front of them.

“Who are you, why are you after me?”

“I can explain! You’re gonna laugh, it’s… I’m a lawyer. Check my ID, okay, but I was running a scam,” Jimmy explained.

“On my abuelita,” Tuco shouted, his voice much louder now that they were outside.

“Not on your Abuelita! Not on you! There’s a woman named Betsy Kettleman, I mentioned her. She’s married to Craig Kettleman, he’s a treasurer of Bernalillo County. I wanted his business. He stole a million and a half bucks from the county! He’s gonna be indicted for embezzlement any day now!” Y/n gave him a confused look as Tuco and his three men watched expressionless as he talked.

“This is a good case for me, a lot of publicity. I’ll get my name out and… Anyway, I thought if I had these two run their little skateboard hustle on Mrs. Kettleman I could, ya know, rescue her. Come and throw some oil and troubled waters and I’d get their business. That was the plan,” Jimmy tried to explain.

“But it turns out your lovely abuelita, she drives a car that’s a whole lot like the Kettlemobile. So these two geniuses ran their little stunt on the wrong one. Joke’s on me, ha ha! Simple as that.” Jimmy waited to see if he'd respond but Tuco instead looked over to one of his men, signaling for him to get something from the van. “Where's he going?! Talk to me,” Jimmy pleaded as he watched the man walk away.

The man came back over and sat the toolbox down in between Jimmy and y/n, who both eyed it warily. 

“I was running a scam to get a client, I made a mistake, that’s all this is,” Jimmy tired again. His breathing was picking up rapidly as his heart pounded in his chest. He looked over at y/n who appeared to be in a similar state.

They watched as Tuco opened the toolbox and searched through it, looking for something specific.

“Oh jesus. You don’t need… that’s not… I’ll talk.” He felt his stomach flip as Tuco pulled out a pair of wire cutters before he walked over to Jimmy. “Tell me what you want to know! Who do you think I am? Use your words, okay?” Tuco stopped right in front of him, the blades of the wire cutters catching in the sun. 

“You know what I smell? I smell lies, I smell pork.”

Tuco leaned down and put the wire cutter to Jimmy’s tied hands, cutting into his pinky just enough for it to bleed. Jimmy cried out in pain.

“That's not necessary!”

“He's not a cop,” y/n shouted, trying to get Tuco’s attention. He ignored her, keeping his eyes trained on Jimmy.

She didn't notice that one of the henchmen, the one who'd gotten the toolbox, did look over at her. He watched as her hair moved in the dry wind and how her white dress was beginning to turn orange from the dust on the ground she sat on. 

The man’s attention was quickly brought back to Tuco who was saying, “I know you’re with the heat, the question is who? Local, FBI, DEA?” Yeah, this guy is definitely not DEA, the man thought to himself as he watched his boss intimidate this guy who was barely stopping himself from crying.

“No, I’m a lawyer, just reach in my pocket right now! Right there,” Jimmy argued. Tuco reached into his pocket and pulled out a matchbook with the name “James M. McGill” and a number written on it. He tossed it to the ground and again started cutting into his finger.

“Truth.”

“That is the truth! I’m a lawyer! Guys I passed the bar, ask me anything! Eh, contract law. I’m down at the courts every day, people know me. I’m a known quantity, I am!”

Y/n looked away with a grimace as Tuco tightened his grip on Jimmy's finger, causing him to again groan in pain.

“I'm Special Agent Jeffrey Steel, FBI,” Jimmy said suddenly. Y/n quickly looked back over at him, her eyebrow raised. Jeffrey Steel, she asked herself.

“FBI,” Tuco asked, sounding unconvinced.

“FBI, I’m undercover, okay? You got me, ok, I’m the tip of the spear. Releasing us would be the smart move.” Tuco jumped up a big smile on his face. 

“You hear that shit?!” He turned to the man who'd gotten him the toolbox, obviously his right hand man, and said, “I told you the business was too good. I knew it, and I told you.”

The man’s expression was blank, if not bored, and instead of responding he gesturing back to Jimmy and asked, “can I?” Tuco nodded and the man walked back over to their tied up hostage.

He was a younger man. He had his head shaved bald and wide eyes that seemed almost like shark eyes. They set Jimmy on more of an edge than he had been.

“Okay, uh, Special Agent,” the man paused to think, “Steel?”

“Jeffrey A. Steel,” Jimmy answered. Beside him y/n closed her eyes in annoyance. We're not gonna get out of this, she thought to herself.

“Okay, Agent Steel, what business are we in?”

“Business?” Y/n internally groaned.

“You're investigating us, right? For what, what did we do? What do we sell,” the man clarified.

“Drugs,” Jimmy answered dumbly.

Y/n watched, her nervousness growing as she saw Tuco eye her friend with confusion.

“What kind of drugs,” the man asked, growing impatient.

“Uh, it’s Title 21, schedule 2 through schedule 5 including part B, that’s what we call them down at the bureau. The task force is designated operation Kingbreaker,” Jimmy lied. He jumped when Tuco shouted excitedly.

“Kingbreaker?! That makes me the king!” He shouted in triumph and raised his hands in the air as if this was some great title, had what Jimmy was saying been real.

“And what about them,” the man in front of Jimmy, still cool and collected, asked as he gestured towards the twins who sat motionless to the side, waiting to see what would happen.

“What about them,” Jimmy asked.

“Are they agents too? Are they in operation Kingbreaker,” he asked, looking over at y/n who fixed him with a steady glare.

“Just, uh, just bystanders. I had to use them to get close to your operation,” Jimmy answered, his tone unconvincing. The man looked back at him, his eyebrow raised in doubt.

“Bystanders?”

“Bystanders.” The man paused for a moment, thinking things out.

He turned back to Tuco and asked, “can I?” Tuco handed him the wire cutters and the man turned back around, pointing them at Jimmy. “Alright. The next words out of your mouth oughta be the truth. You understand?”

“Uh huh,” Jimmy said with a nod.

“Who are you?” Jimmy hesitated for a second, trying to decide which way he should go with his story.

“I’m James Morgan McGill, I’m a lawyer, I was trolling for business, okay, that’s the truth. Now you can find a Bible, I’ll swear on it,” he finally folded. Y/n breathed a sigh of relief but looked at Tuco and his men worriedly, not knowing if they'd believe it.

“What about operation Kingbreaker?”

“I made it up. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I don’t know you. I don’t want to. This was a mistake. It’s my mistake. Okay, I take full and complete responsibility, but I don’t know any of your names and we all have a bad case of face blindness, you let us go we’re gonna forget this happened.” Y/n nodded her head enthusiastically before her and the lawyer who'd managed to get her tied up in the desert looked over to her cousins who were in a similar position.

“Guys, we’re gonna forget this happened, right,” she asked. “Nod your heads.” She watched as her they nodded their heads, mumbling something through the the tape covering their mouth.

“So if you just let us go, we just wanna go,” Jimmy practically begged. The man turned back around and walked over to Tuco, stopping in front of him.

“He said he was FBI. He admitted it,” Tuco questioned.

“You had wire cutters on him, he would have said anything,” the man reasoned. He nodded his heads towards where the two lanky teens were laying. “You really see the FBI hiring those two flaquitos?”

“He said he was just using them.”

“Croaking a lawyer for no reason is bad business. He goes away someone’s gonna come look for him.” He looked over to y/n who was staring at them, trying to figure out what they were saying. “And her,” he finished.

“What about her,” Tuco asked. 

“You said she came later, right? She wasn't in on it. And if she told anyone where she was going, they'll look for her too,” the man explained. 

Tuco looked over at her and then at her cousins before shouting, “They walked into my house. They disrespected my Abuelita. They called her ‘biznatch!! And they just walk? Huh?!” 

The man didn't flinch at his boss' outburst and instead said calmly, “what about these two? They're giving respect?” Tuco nodded.

“Okay.” His henchman slapped him on the shoulder before walking over to where the matchbook was laying in the dirt. He picked it up and went back over to Jimmy.

“James M. McGill. ‘A lawyer you can trust’.” He pulled out a knife. “I know how to find you, James McGill. Understand what I'm saying?” Jimmy nodded, his face growing pale from the threat.

“Yeah.”

The man walked closer and leaned down to cut him loose, walking over to where y/n say when he was done.

“I can't imagine it'd be hard to find you either,” he warned. Y/n opted for nodding, rather than responding. The man nodded back and cut her loose as well, putting his hand on her arm to help her stand. “Up. Okay?” 

Y/n eyed him cautiously as Jimmy went to stand beside her, taking her wrist and pulling her away as he said, “thank you. This is good. This is right. Thank you.” He put his arm around her shoulders as if it would made her any safer and looked down at her face, trying to see if she was alright. He found that she was staring at the twins who wore matching confused expressions.

“Take them back to their cars,” Tuco ordered. 

The bigger henchmen, the one who'd taken the bags off their heads, walked over to them and started to escort them back towards the van.

“What about them,” y/n asked.

“Come on. Come on,” he henchmen said, his eyes pleading with her to drop it. Jimmy himself was holding on to her tighter, as if she was trying to break loose, and mentally begged her to just shut up and keep her head down so at least some of them could get out of this.

“It'll be alright,” he said as he pulled her along. She took a couple more steps forward but stopped when she saw Tuco take out his knife, causing the gingers to scream.

Y/n ripped out of Jimmy's grasp and walked over to where Tuco and his remaining henchmen stood over the pair. “Wait, wait. Can I just say something,” she asked.

“Yo, where are you going,” the henchmen asked.

“Y/n,” Jimmy practically begged. Tuco turned around to face her, obviously annoyed.

“Can you let them go? Just let them go,” she pleaded. 

“Are you stupid?”

“They don't deserve to die, they're idiots, but they don't deserve to die.”

“I’m gonna skin em like javelinas,” Tuco shouted, getting up in her face and making her flinch. Jimmy rushed over, stopping to stand beside her and put his arm in front of her, ready to push her out of the way if need be.

“Forget about them, they're insects! They're- hey, think about their mother,” Jimmy said. 

Tuco spat on the ground and yelled, “I spit on their momma!”

“She is a sweet little lady. She’s a widow! She works hard, all day, every day. Just like her mother before her, from dawn til dusk, scrubbing the floors of rich people. She needs a cane to walk, you know, she’s got arthritis,” y/n supplied.

“But still works everyday. What, for herself? No. For them! For these two! Her boys, the apples of her eye. You say they don’t deserve her? Maybe so. But they’re all she’s got. You turn them inside out I want you to think about what happens to her,” Jimmy added. The two held their breath as they waited for their kidnapper to reply.

“No that's on them, they should've thought about that.”

“When we were at your Abuelita’s place you were gonna let them go. The way I see it that’s because you’re tough, but you’re fair. You’re all about justice,” y/n said.

“That's what I'm saying. Justice,” Tuco agreed. Y/n nodded and looked around at the henchmen, trying to gauge their reactions. The man who appeared to be second in charge, the one who'd cut them loose, was eyeing her with a confused expression and the other two looked absolutely terrified, like Tuco was going to burst any second.

“These two shit-for-brains, these big mouths? You already beat the living hell out of them, you think they’re ever gonna forget today? Never. 10 years from now they’re still gonna be crapping their jockeys,” Jimmy said, trying to get y/n to stand behind him so he could be between the two.

“It's not enough.”

“Okay, okay, then let’s talk proportionality. They’re guilty.”

Y/n watched as Cal and Lars shook their heads violently, both yelling their disagreements.

“Agreed. But know you have to decide what's the right sentence,” y/n said, turning away from her family as she struggled not to let her emotions show in her voice.

“Like a judge,” Tuco asked.

“Like a judge. Ever hear of the code of Hammurabi? Let the punishment fit the crime? Eye for an eye?”

“Eye for an eye? You want me to blind them,” the drug lord asked as he advanced towards his possible victims.

“No,” y/n and Jimmy shouted in unison.

“All they did was trash talk,” Jimmy argued.

“So I cut their tongues out!” Lars and Cal screamed through their gags.

“Wait, Im saying that you should make the punishment fit the crime,” y/n explained.

“Punishment fit the crime,” Tuco said to himself as he thought of what to do. “Columbian neckties! I cut their throats then I pull their lying tongues through the slits!” He turned back to the twins. “Biznatch!”

“Or you could give them black eyes,” Jimmy offered.

“Black eyes?” Tuco laughed. “That ain't nothing!”

On of the henchmen, the smallest one, said, “that one there, homes? He already got a black eye, fool.” Tuco went silent and walked over to him, obviously irritated with his input.

“Stop helping,” he ordered darkly. Y/n struggled to think as she watched her cousins squirm on the ground, trying to get loose. 

“Or you could sprain their ankles.” Tuco looked back at her.

“Sprain?”

“They’re skateboarders, right? That’s how they run their scam. They can’t skate. You hit them where they live.”

“I ain’t spraining nothing, bitch,” Tuco shouted at her. “I’m gonna break their arms, and I’m gonna break their legs.” 

“Arms? When did we get on arms,” Jimmy interjected.

“I'm cutting their legs off.” Y/n felt her anxiety jump in her chest as Tuco started to turn away, but was stopped by Jimmy speaking up again.

“We could go that way, but we were talking about breaking. I think we're headed in the wrong direction.”

“Okay. Break their legs,” Tuco decided. 

“How many legs,” Jimmy asked. Tuco glared at him.

“Two, they got two legs,” he shouted.

“One leg. Each,” Jimmy suggested. Y/n held her breath, her nerves growing more and more tense.

“One leg each?”

“One leg each. Total of two legs,” Jimmy explained “Hey, look. They can’t skateboard for six months, and they’re scared of you forever. You show everybody that you are the man, but that you’re fair, that you’re just.” Tuco looked at him for a long moment, muling his idea over. He looked between him and y/n who stood anxiously at his side before he rolled up his sleeve and held his hand out for Jimmy to shake.

“One leg each,” he agreed. Jimmy shook his hand with a tight grin.

“That's tough, but that's fair.” Tuco turned to y/n, his face even, and held out his hand for her to shake. She held his gaze for a while, almost challenging him, but after a short moment she caved and took his hand.

“That's fair,” she agreed. Tuco nodded before turning back to where his men waited.

“Alright, lay ‘em out! I ain't got all day, it's hotter than shit out here!” Jimmy walked over to y/n, putting his arm around her as she watched the two henchmen hold her cousins down against the ground, ignoring their screams. One of them ripped the tape off their mouths and they immediately started begging.

“We’re sorry! We're sorry,” they pleaded as they fought against their captors hold.

“Quit moving, you're only gonna make it worse!” The second hand man stood to the side as he watched his boss shout and line up his foot to snap the skater’s leg. He looked over to where the woman and lawyer stood. He watched as the older man turned away, not wanting to see, as the woman kept her eyes forward, looking right where Tuco’s foot was about to land, as if she had to watch. 

Tuco lifted his foot up and stomped it down on the man’s leg hard, causing it to snap loudly and the victim to scream in pain.

“Hell yeah! Hell yeah! He said he got a broke leg, now he’s got a broke leg for real!” He leaned down to scream in the yelling man's face. “Tell your momma you're sorry, bitch!” He pointed at the twin who was desperately fighting against the rope that tied his hands together. “Other one!” He paused to hit one of the man that was holding them down and gestured to the injured leg. “Look it's backwards.” The two laughed.

Jimmy forced himself to look back at the scene, visibly grimacing at the sight of the broken leg. He looked to y/n who was standing still faced, her hands clenched to her sides and her skin pale. His eyes caught the henchmen's who was standing to the side and the two stared at each other as Tuco broke the sibling’s leg, making them match again.

“Walk home now, bitch,” the short man shouted, spit flying from his mouth. 

It was a few hours later and Jimmy had dropped the twins off at the emergency room, leaving y/n with them to make sure everything got squared away. She sat in the lobby and waited while their legs got reset and put into casts and then spent a whole hour explaining to them why calling the cops would be a terrible idea.

She had just gotten home not twenty minutes ago and was fresh out of the shower, having washed off the grim from the desert and the sweat from her out of ordinary day.

Y/n walked out of the bathroom, leaving the door open so the steam could air out, and went down the hall, the only noise coming from her bare footsteps hitting against the wood of the floors. She sighed out of tiredness as she reached the door of her bedroom. She stepped inside, readjusting the towel tied around her body and took the one wrapped around her head off before throwing it towards the hamper. 

Before the towel even landed a man was charging at her, pushing her up against the wall and sticking a gun in her face. Y/n cried out in shock, grunting as her back hit the wall hard. She used one hand to try and brace herself against the wall while the other went up to grab her towel, trying to stop it from falling. Meanwhile, the hand the man used to push her with went up to cover her mouth. Y/n looked up at the second man who pointed a man at her today to see that it was the man from the desert. The one who'd grabbed the toolbox, the one who'd cut them loose, the one who'd threatened her.

“You gonna scream,” he asked, his wide eyes cold and mean. Y/n rolled her own eyes before nodding. He slowly pulled his hand away from her mouth and she took several deep breaths to try and calm herself down.

“What do you want,” she asked.

“Tuco sent me.”

“No shit,” y/n bite out. The man chuckled, lowering his gun and making y/n only slightly less uneasy.

“He thought maybe he let you off too easy, wanted to make sure the message got across,” he explained.

“So you're here to break my leg?”

“No, he just wanted me to scare you. Make sure you don't go blabbing to the cops.” It was y/n’s turn to chuckle.

“He thinks I'm gonna go to the cops? I assume you followed me here from the hospital, right?” The man gave her a confused look before nodding. “Well I spent most of the night in there convincing my brain dead cousins how stupid that would be. He can trust me, I'm the last person who would go to the cops.” The man nodded before backing up, giving her a little more room but still invading her personal space.

“Good. Good.” He stuck his gun into the back of his pants, staring down at the woman in front of him. Though there was a strange man in her bedroom, a man who'd kidnapped her earlier that day, she seemed more mad than anything else. He couldn't help but smile. “You know, you're a weird one,” he commented, putting his hands on his hips.

“This coming from the drug dealer who commits first degree kidnapping and home invasion in one day.”

“Yeah but when you were kidnapped, like tied up in the desert with a gun to your head kidnapped, you were totally calm,” he stopped to laugh. “You talked back to Tuco Salamanca. No one does that.”

“I did that,” y/n said sternly, clearly irritated by the man who'd broken into her home and was laughing at her. His smile fell from his face.

“Yeah. You did,” he stated, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I guess my question is,” he continued, “who are you to have the balls to stand up to a Salamanca or me for that matter,” he asked, his glare returning to his brow.

“I'm no one. Just a law school dropout who works part time at a college financing office,” y/n said, her voice stern. The two stared at each other for a long moment, neither wanting to break each other's gaze. 

It was the stranger who finally broke, lowering his gaze before stepping back fully. 

“Well, we know where you live now, and we’ll be watching you, so don't do anything stupid,” he warned.

“No problem,” y/n answered, her voice clipped. He nodded and started walking towards the door, much to her relief.

“I'll see you around then, y/n.”

“See you around, creepy guy,” she said as she wrapped her arms tightly around herself, clearly rattled.

“Its Nacho,” he offered, stopping to look back at where she stood.

“See you around, Nacho,” she said in an irritated tone. She watched as the man, Nacho, made his way to the front door.

“Have a good night,” he called back before walking out, closing it behind him. Y/n immediately ran to the door, locking it as soon as she reached it. She went around the house and made sure all the windows and back door was locked. She then went back to her room and got dressed as fast as she could, checking in her closet and under her bed before she did so.

After that she did another sweep of her home before settling down on her couch, still uneasy. She looked around the room before pulling out her phone and, not knowing what else to do, called the man who'd gotten her in this mess.

She didn't hear back from him until the following morning. He called as she drove to work, exhausted from not sleeping the night before.

“Hello,” y/n asked.

“How you doing rockstar,” Jimmy asked from the other line. Y/n couldn't stop herself from smiling.

“Oh you know, I've been better.”

“Yeah, I hear that. What's up?”

“There have been some developments in the crazy roller coaster that was our day yesterday.”

“Oh god, they didn't tell anyone did they,” Jimmy asked, worry clear in his voice.

“No, no, no. Nothing like that. But it's something that we should discuss. Are you free today?”

“Sadly, I am not. I've got indictments stacked on top of indictments today. The earliest I could get together would be Friday?”

“Friday works for me,” y/n answered with a smile.

“Well, I will see you then. Tell your cousins I wish them a speedy recovery.” Y/n laughed.

“Can do,” she said before hanging up. The tension that had been weighing her down all night started to ease up once she thought about how good it would feel to finally talk everything out with someone.

That ease was immediately swept away by the reflection of a similar van following behind her. She sighed heavily as she thought about Nacho’s promise to “see her later”. A part of her wanted to speed up, try to lose him, but a more rational part told her that it would be in vain. They knew her name, where she lived and besides, she had already taken off from work earlier the day before and she couldn't really be late today. 

She ended up seeing that van follow her for the next several days. Everyday in fact, leading up to Friday when, on her drive to work, she looked up in her rearview mirror and saw that the road behind her was completely empty, void of any cars. Y/n felt herself calm down, maybe they were finally done with her, and she smiled to herself as she made her way over to a spa that Jimmy had told her to meet at.

Y/n pulled into the parking lot in front of the spa, Day Spa and Nail, and parked. She got out of her car and slung her purse over her shoulder before going inside. A woman at the front desk dressed all in yellow greeted her with a polite smile.

“Hi, I'm looking for Jimmy?” The woman’s smile instantly fell.

“In the back, past the bathroom,” she said simply before turning away. Y/n gave her an appreciative albeit awkward smile and walked over to the back of the building. She found a door labeled as Jimmy’s office and she couldn't stop herself from smiling. Of course he works out of a spa, she thought with a smile. 

She knocked on the door and heard a tired, “come on in!” She opened the door, accidentally bumping it into a chair.

“Oops, sorry,” y/n said to Jimmy who sat behind his desk, squeezed into the tiny room.

“Don't worry about it. I'm trying to go for a minimalist look but sadly I still need the chair,” he joked as y/n pressed herself into the dark room, closing the door softly behind her. “Sorry for making you drive out here, I needed to finish some of this paperwork.”

“Oh you're fine, we should probably talk in privacy anyway.”

“About your update on our kidnapping?” Y/n chuckled.

“Yeah, about my update.”

“Well, pop a squat and lets gossip,” Jimmy said, gesturing to the couch pushed up against the opposite wall. “Just think of me like a discount therapists, tell me your woes,” he said with a grin. Y/n sat down on the couch, placing her purse next to her. She clasped her hands in her lap and crossed her legs, in mock professionalism.

“Well doctor,” she said sarcastically. “After being kidnapped and tied up in the desert for an hour, I had to take my dumbass cousins to the hospital.”

“And how did that make you feel,” Jimmy asked, leaning back in his chair and tapping his chin.

“Well, it made me pretty angry. But what really pushed me over the edge was when one of the Wild Bunch broke into my house to threaten me.” Jimmy's cheerful demeanor fell as he leaned forward, resting his hands against his desk.

“They went to your house?!”

“Just one of them, he said Tuco wanted to make sure his message sunk in,” y/n explained.

“Have you- have you seen him since?”

“I saw that van following me around, but not today. They must be over it.” Jimmy looked visibly calmer as he sighed with relief and ran a hand over his mouth.

“Thank Christ.” He stood up, flipping his notebook close as he did. “Well, after these past couple days I think we could both use a drink. How does that sounds?”

“Fucking amazing,” y/n said sincerely as she stood up from her seat. The two smiled at each other and started to head for the door when a knock stopped them. Jimmy wiggled over to the door and managed to open it. The woman from the front desk poked her head in.

“Yes?”

“Customer,” she answered simply.

“What,” Jimmy asked, shocked.

“For you, a customer. Waiting now.”

“Uh, give me a minute,” Jimmy replied as he straightened up his desk.

“Do you want me to wait outside for you,” y/n asked. Jimmy smiled up at her.

“That'd be great. Thanks.” She gave him a smile and headed out the door, careful not to bump into the chair again. Jimmy busied himself, straightening his tie and fixing his hair when he heard the door open. “Welcome, welcome, my office is being painted right now, excuse the temporary,” he cut himself off at the sight of y/n walking back in, looking annoyed. “What're you doing back?”

She walked into the room revealing Nacho standing behind her. Jimmy felt his blood turn cold as he watched the man calmly walk in, closing the door behind him. He looked around the room, unimpressed.

“Wow, cozy.” He looked at see how nervous Jimmy was and chuckled. “Just me. Tuco freaked you out, huh?” He walked further into the small room, causing Jimmy to take a few steps back and y/n to cross her arms, clearly not happy with his surprise appearance. “It's cool, he doesn't know I'm here,” Nacho explained.

Jimmy looked between him and y/n anxiously and asked, “so, uh, what can we do for you?”

“Well, I was hoping to just talk to you, but seeing as y/n here would've spotted me and asked questions, I figured it'd be best if you were both here,” he said, eyeing where y/n stood to his side.

“Yeah, I promise you, y/n does not need to be here for whatever it is,” he trailed off, trying to think of his wording, “that you're looking for.” Nacho raised an eyebrow at him, not thrilled with his back talk. Jimmy raised his hands in surrender and said, his voice shaking, “I mean, you've bothered her enough already. Breaking into her house, following her around.” The threatening man turned swiftly to face y/n.

“You told him about that?”

“Um, yeah. Was there a rule not to,” she asked sarcastically. He glared down at her, his nostrils flaring. She rolled her eyes before saying, “I didn't tell anyone else. Not even my cousins.” Nacho visibly calmed down.

“Good.” He turned back to Jimmy. “Now, what I need from you.”

“I don't have anything to give,” he interrupted.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said, out there in the desert,” Nacho continued, uncaring. “Those people that you were trying to scam, how much did they steal?”

“Uh, north of a million and a half bucks. I think,” Jimmy answered uncertainly. 

“So. They have a million and a half bucks somewhere. In what, cash?” Y/n and Jimmy eyed him suspiciously.

“I don't know, why are you asking me?”

“I'm gonna rip them off,” Nacho answered bluntly.

“Oh,” Jimmy said, surprised.

“Huh,” y/n said, not as surprised. The two men turned to her questionly. She shrugged her shoulders. “Well everyone knows he's guilty. Someone was bound to try and scam him eventually,” she answered.

“I like ripping off thieves because they can’t go to the cops, they have no recourse,” Nacho said to her before looking back at Jimmy. “You point me at where they have their cash, I’ll pay you, what do you call it, a finder’s fee. Call it ten percent. A hundred large.”

“Why would you come to me for that?”

“You already tried ripping them off. I'm gonna finish what you started.”

“I wasn’t trying to rip them off, I just wanted their business,” the exasperated lawyer argued. Nacho simply chuckled.

“Okay.”

“I don't know where their money is,” he tried again.

“Smart guy like you can figure it out. If I know what I need to know no one gets hurt. We rip them off, easy money.”

“Look, I'm a lawyer, not a criminal,” Jimmy explained. Nacho looked at him blankly, surprised by what the man who'd openly admitted to orchestrating a hit and run not a week ago had just said.

“You are shitting me.”

“He's telling the truth,” y/n defended. Nacho shot her a glare before turning back to Jimmy as he spoke up.

“I crossed a line. I made a mistake. I’m not doing that again, not ever.” The uninvited guest focused his glare on the lawyer who was growing more and more pale.

“I got between you and Tuco,” he said, his voice rising. He turned to point at y/n who was wringing her hands together. “Both of you. Do you think either of you would be here now if I kept my mouth shut?”

“We appreciate that, we owe you,” y/n said, trying to calm him down.

“Yes and if you're ever in trouble, god forbid, legal trouble, I will be there 24/7 as a lawyer,” Jimmy added, emphasizing the last word. Nacho looked at him for a moment, thinking things over.

“What's your angle?”

“No, no angle. And we're not saying anything about this to anybody. As far as I’m concerned, you’re a client, this is consultation, and everything you just told me is privileged.” Jimmy turned to y/n. “You're the one who brought y/n back in here so she'll adhere to your judgement. Right, y/n,” he asked, practically begging. The two men looked back at where the young woman stood. She looked Nacho in the eye, holding his gaze much to both his and Jimmy's surprise.

“I'm not saying anything,” she promised.

“You rat, you die,” he promised right back. He waited until she nodded before looking back to Jimmy.

“That works too.” Holding Jimmy’s eyes, Nacho walked over to the desk, putting his hand in his back pocket. Jimmy stepped back until he was up against the wall and y/n took a step forward, waiting to see what the man would do. He pulled out the matchbook he had taken with him from the desert and grabbed a pen off the desk.

He wrote his number on the matchbook and said, “for when you figure out you're in the game.” He set the pen and matchbook down before looking back at y/n. “Both of you.” He walked out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.

“We're not in the game, I promise,” Jimmy said, knowing the man couldn't hear him. He sighed and looked to y/n.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, I'm fine,” she answered. The two sat in silence for a moment, both trying to think of what to say. It was y/n who spoke up first. “I could really use that drink now though.” A small smile reached her friend’s lips.

“That would be fantastic.”


	3. A Tough Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nacho becomes a bigger and bigger thorn in Jimmy and y/n's sides. Also Jimmy gets beat up by an old man.

The last few days had been rough on Jimmy. After getting kidnapped he'd thrown himself into his work, trying to turn a new leaf, and though it'd kept him busy he was tired after the long week. The surprise visit from the dead eyed dealer, Nacho, y/n had named him, wasn't exactly how Jimmy was hoping to end the week. Going out for drinks with y/n had been fun and it had helped them both get their minds off of everything for a while, but ever since the little impromptu meeting, he was growing more and more worried about the Kettlemans. 

That was about a week ago but Jimmy's anxiety was getting worse with each passing night. He couldn't fall asleep, his brain buzzing with ideas of what Nacho’s threat had meant. He finally gave up and got up to pour himself a glass of refreshing cucumber water, and a little vodka just to keep it interesting. He paced around the dark spa, trying to think of what to do. He needed to talk it all out with someone. 

His mind immediately went to Kim. But she's on their case, she can't talk about it. He paused to think about it. I'll speak hypothetically he decided before he pulled out his cell. He waited while it rang, a smile stretching across his lips once Kim answered.

“Jimmy? What's… Jesus, what time is it?” Jimmy glanced at the clock.

“The clock says 2, but I think that might be Ho Chi Minh’s timezone.” 

The two chatted for a bit but Jimmy never got a chance to talk everything through like he'd hoped. Instead he'd just made Kim suspicious and made himself all the more nervous. Once they hung up his anxiety was swishing around in his stomach along with the now two cups of vodka and cucumber water he'd drank. He had to do something, he just didn't know what. He opted for calling y/n.

She picked up on the fourth ring with a groggy, “yeah?”

“Hey, kiddo,” Jimmy greeted cheerfully.

“Jimmy? What's up?”

“I just needed to talk everything through with someone,” he explained.

“At 2:16 in the morning?”

“I'm a night owl y/n, I'd don't know what else to do for you.” He smiled as she chuckled over the phone. 

He heard her move around over the line, probably sitting up, and in a more awake voice she asked, “what do you need to talk through?”

“Well, if you recall the little meeting we had with our friend Nacho.”

“How could I forget,” she joked.

“I was just thinking about what he said, about ripping them off,” he paused to think. He started pacing around again. “I don't know, I'm just worried about them. They have kids,” he finished, suddenly more sincere. He listened to y/n breath as she tried to think of what to do.

“Is there a way you could give them a warning? Without Nacho knowing?”

“Like a letter made out of magazine clippings?”

“Or like a call,” y/n offered, a smile in her voice.

“They know my voice, I couldn't call them.” The two sat in silence for a bit, both contemplating their limited options. Suddenly Jimmy had an idea. “Hey, you know whose voice they don't know?!”

“Whose,” y/n asked worriedly.

“You do have a lovely speaking voice.”

Twenty minutes later y/n was at the nail salon, still wearing her pajamas; a white tank top, grey sweatpants, and some tennis shoes she'd thrown on before driving over.

“So I agree we have to do something, but I'm not gonna be the one to call.”

“But it has to be you,” Jimmy pleaded.

“What if we buy one of those voice disguiser thingies,”  
y/n asked, wringing her hands together which Jimmy now knew was a habit she did when she was nervous. He tried to think of what to do when suddenly another groundbreaking idea came to him.

“I've got it,” he declared before going over to the washer and dryer in front of his office. Y/n watched, confused as he put a roll of paper towels on the handle of a mop, spinning it so all the paper towels came off, leaving just the cardboard tube left. He took a rubber band and tied a dryer sheet down to one end of it before presenting it to y/n as if it some great new invention. She took it from him hesitantly.

“What am I supposed to do with this,” she asked.

“Disguise your voice. Here.” Jimmy took it from her and talked through the open end of the tube. “Hello,” he said animatedly. 

“And I'm supposed to use it,” y/n asked incredulously, raising her eyebrow at him.

“Well yeah, they might still recognize mine if I do it.” She took it back from him, looking over it worriedly before she sighed.

“Fine. We gotta find a payphone.”

It took them a surprisingly short time to find a payphone in a vacant enough area where no one would spot them. They hopped out of y/n’s car and walked over. Jimmy punched in the number and handed the receiver to y/n. She listened to it ring, only for the answering machine to pick up. 

“Hello! You've reached the Kettlemans,” the recorded family shouted.

“It's their machine.”

“Leave a message.”

“I'm not leaving a message saying they might got robbed,” y/n argued, listening to the family list off their names before she hung up. “What do we do?”

“Let me try them again,” Jimmy said before putting in a couple more quarters and dialing the number again. Again y/n listened to the ring and again she got their machine. She sighed and hung up again. “One more time,” Jimmy said tiredly before redialing. Y/n put the phone back to her ear, looking more and more ready to go home. Someone picked up on the second ring.

“Hello,” a man's voice asked.

Y/n put the tube to her mouth and said, “Kettlemans, you're in danger! You're in danger!”

“I'm sorry, what,” the man asked. After a beat he added, “wait, say that again.”

“They know about your money, watch out,” y/n replied.

“Yeah, what are you trying to say?” Y/n rolled her eyes.

“This is a warning, you’re in danger, they’re coming for your money. This is a friendly stranger, your whole family’s in danger, the money, they know about the money,” she said, running out of breath.

“You have a terrible connection,” a woman said. Y/n sighed and covered the phone so they wouldn't hear.

“They can't hear me.” Jimmy reached his hands out.

“Let me try.” He put the phone against his ear and the tube against his mouth.

“I’m warning you. They know about your money. Be careful,” he tried.

“Can you call back on a better line,” the woman asked. 

Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut in anticipation and said, without the tube, “Kettlemans, you’re in danger, they’re coming for your money, bye!” He hung up quickly and the two turned to each other, both out of breath and with wide eyes.

The next morning Jimmy was exhausted as he tried to get Oakley to make a deal with him, and of course Oakley chose to use the restroom right at that moment.

“Can't do it, McGill,” he said from the bathroom stall.

“Can't do it, can't do it. Would you work with me here,” Jimmy asked, his patience wearing thin.

“I'm listening, aren't I?”

“Well, you’re kind of a captive audience. What did you eat for lunch, the whole roast beast?”

“Funny,” Oakley said before flushing and walking out of the stall, going over to the sink to wash his hands. The two argued for a bit more until Jimmy realized they were talking about two different people and he snapped at him. He got him to accept his offer and watched as the balding man scampered out of the room just as his phone rang. He answered and put it to his ear.

“Good morning… What did you mean “what did I mean”... I, no, I told you I was drunk, I just… Kim, why are you asking me this?”

Ten minutes later he was at the Kettleman’s house. Police were everywhere and neighbors stood to the side, trying to find out what happened. Jimmy went to join them but instead spotted Howard Hamlin, his old boss and the most arrogant asshole to walk the earth. Jimmy learned from him and Kim that the Kettleman's house had been broken into and that the whole family, including the two kids, were missing.

He headed back to his car, his facing growing pale from nervousness as he did. He got in and took several deep breaths to try and calm himself down. 

“Everything is gonna be fine. It's gonna work out. A-okay. It's gonna be fine,” he told himself. He sat in silence for awhile, trying to think of what to do, before he drove to a payphone. He parked in front of it and pulled out the matchbook Nacho had written his number on. He disabled the number and felt his throat seize up when it went straight to voicemail. He had his phone turned off.

“Nacho. Leave it,” the machine said simply.

“Uh, yes, I'm, uh… This is the party you spoke to the other day. Uh, and I sincerely want to help you… de-escalate your situation, uh, legally and otherwise. Um, so call me at 146-8729 at your earliest convenience. But soon, please,” Jimmy babbled into the phone before hanging up. He waited for a total of ten seconds before trying again. 

“Nacho. Leave it,” the machine repeated.

“Yeah, Nacho, hi. Uh, just to clarify, look, I don't know anything. I have spoken to no one, and, uh, there are no rats on this ship. But...for the sake of everyone involved, I would just like to open a dialogue. So 146-8729. Call me when you get this.” He hung up and started to pace along the sidewalk before he thought of something to add and rushed back over to the phone, spilling his quarters onto the ground before redialing.

“If I didn't say it before, time is of the essence on this matter, so, uh, I'm gonna hang up now. If you're trying to call, uh, there's no call waiting here. If you get a busy signal, just keep trying. I'll be here.” He hung up and immediately redialed for a third time.

“I can put out this fire, if there is a fire. By hope of hopes, this is all a big misunderstanding. 146-8729.” He hung up again and took a deep breath before he sat on the edge of the curb, trying to get his nerves under control. Suddenly the phone rang. He jumped up and answered. “Hello? Hello? Nacho? Nacho?” The phone cut out without anyone replying.

Jimmy slowly hung up and stepped away from the machine, as if it was going to jump out at him at any moment. He looked around to find he was alone on the street and got back into his car. He tried to start it but found that it was dead. He looked up to see a man who seemed to appear out of thin air walking towards him. He took another deep breath and got out, walking in the opposite direction of the stranger. As he did a man turned the corner in front of him and started walking towards him. He was surrounded.

“Walking, just walking. Just strolling along,” Jimmy said to himself. He turned a corner into an alley and started sprinting as soon as he was out of sight from the men. As soon as the men reached the alley they started running after him, drawing their guns. A cop car pulled out in front of Jimmy. “Thank god! Help, help,” he begged.

“Down, show us your hands,” one of the men chasing him shouted.

“You guys are cops,” Jimmy asked, surprised. They forced him onto the ground and cuffed him. “Ow, I got bad knees,” he complained. “Officers, you’re making a mistake! My name’s McGill, James McGill. I’m an attorney. Easy! Easy!” They pulled him up to stand and took out his wallet, checking his ID.

“It's his lawyer.”

“Whose lawyer,” Jimmy asked, panting.

They brought him to the station where they showed him Nacho, cuffed and waiting in an interrogation room.

“You sure he asked for me?”

“You going in or what,” one of the detectives asked. Jimmy forced himself to go inside and immediately started talking, not wanting to give the ever-threatening man a chance to speak first.

“Hey! You asked for me, and I have come. I gotta tell you, this was a wise move. Very smart. Because I'm here to help everyone, all parties, but mostly you. Uh, those two detectives - they just gave me an earful. And what they were telling me is it's problematic. I'm gonna pitch it back to you so I know we're on the same page. A neighbor lady saw a suspicious van parked across the street from the Kettlemans' house two nights in a row. She wrote down the license plate. It was your license plate. Cops tracked your van and you, searched it, and found blood on the floor. So. Here we are.” He paused for a brief second, looking down at the very quiet and very angry man who sat handcuffed in front of him. Jimmy decided to sit down, just to hide his shaking leg.

“They're calling the FBI in on this, which makes it federal. That's a bad thing, Nacho. That's very bad, but if you tell me where the family is, if you give them up now. Full cooperation, deep remorse. I feel very good about knocking your sentence down to the minimum 18 years. They take this good-behavior thing very seriously, so start here, right here. Tell me the family is okay. Tell me the kids are okay. You want to tell me your thoughts and weigh in? Does this sound like a plan that you can get behind?” Nacho simply stared at him.

“You miserable piece of shit. You set me up.”

“I what?”

“You gave my score to another crew, and now you're setting me up,” Nacho explained.

“I...what? The what,” Jimmy asked, trying to wrap his head around what the man was saying.

“Well if it wasn't you, it was y/n,” he said, his voice dripping with anger.

“Did the cops beat you? ‘Cause you're talking like a person with head trauma.”

“You think you're funny,” Nacho asked, unamused.

“What are you saying? Are you saying that you had nothing to do with this? That was your van outside the house. You weren’t there,” the lawyer asked.

“Yeah, I was there. I was casing the place, figuring out the best way in and out, what time they went to bed all that. They were fine when I left. That's it.”

“You had nothing to do with the Kettlemans?”

“I was never in the house,” Nacho emphasized. Jimmy shook his head, trying to process everything.

“What about the blood in your van,” he asked.

“They DNA my ride, all they're gonna find is the blood of your skate-rat twins, plus whatever piss and shit you leaked out when you were in there. Nobody's been in the back of that van since.”

“I don't understand.” The suspect leaned forward in his seat, his nostrils flaring.

“Here's what I understand, counselor. I told my plan to two other people.Two. You and y/n. Now here I am, under arrest. Go figure.” He leaned back.

“I don't know anything about a setup or another crew,” Jimmy swore. Nacho slammed his fists on the table, making him jump.

“You know what? I don't even care. The cops are out there right now, poking into my business, and if they find something on me or my partners, for real, it's gonna be bad for you. Really bad.”

“Bad? Bad, as in…” Nacho leaned forward again.

“You get me out of here, today, or you're a dead man. That puta too,” he promised. Jimmy stared at him, his eyes wide with fear. He left the room to find Kim waiting in the hall with the detectives.

The four talked for a while, them trying to get Jimmy to help, and Jimmy trying to convince them he couldn't. Then they took him to the crime scene where Jimmy proved to make an ass out of himself and make himself feel evermore concerned about the fate of the family. He ended up confiding in Kim about calling the Kettlemans himself and how, though Nacho wasn't guilty, he was a dangerous guy. He explained how if he didn't get him out of this he would end up missing too and finished by asking for her help.

“They will be caught if the cops are looking for them, so you tell them to, would you? The FBI, too I heard they're getting in on this,” Jimmy asked, regarding the Kettlemans on the run.

“Why would the FBI listen to me,” Kim asked.

“Well, Hamlin. They'll listen to him, right? APD, at least. You talk to Howard. You explain things to him. He has clout with these people.” Kim shook her head.

“What? Is that a no or…”

“Hamlin will never agree to it. The Kettlemans are our clients. This would mean incriminating them.”

“Oh, you see? This is why people hate lawyers.” Kim gave Jimmy an annoyed look.

“It's Hamlin's call, and Hamlin will never agree. And even if it were up to me, you know I couldn't. I'm sorry, I just,” she trailed off, wanting to be able to do more. Jimmy nodded in understanding.

“I get it.” He started to walk away.

“Where are you going?”

“I'm gonna go talk to Nacho. I'll try to make him see reason. To beg,” Jimmy explained as he went back to his car.

He drove back to the courthouse but found that he couldn't make it into the parking lot. The machine wouldn't give him his ticket and the old man who worked the booth, the man Jimmy had mocked earlier that day, wouldn't help him. They ended up getting into an argument, which turned into a physical altercation, which ended with Jimmy getting his ass kicked by an elderly man.

Not long after that Jimmy found himself handcuffed and sitting on a bench in the courthouse, waiting while the two detectives working the Kettlemans’ disappearance talked with the man, Ehrma-? Ehrmantr-? Ehrman-something.

They walked over to him and one of the detectives said, “okay, here's the deal. You assaulted this man.” Jimmy raised his eyebrows at him.

“Give me a break. I barely touched the guy,” he argued. 

“But you laid hands on him first,” the other detective said.

“Finger. I laid finger on him,” Jimmy countered.

“Well, whatever your interpretation, it was still an assault.”

“Now, this gentleman is willing to let this go, not press charges, if you help us out. You got to get your client to tell us where he has the family stashed,” his partner explained.

“Wait, guys, I'm the definition of a broken record on this one. Nacho is ‘not-cho’ man, comprendo? Nobody took the Kettlemans. The Kettlemans took themselves,” Jimmy shouted. Without him knowing, the elderly man he'd gotten in a fight with, Ehrmantraut, was thinking over what he was saying and agreed with him.

“You're gonna keep playing that line, it's gonna go rough,” one of the detectives warned.

“You know what? Do your worst.”

“Alright, lets go to booking,” the detectives grabbed him by the arms and pulled him to his feet.

“Yeah, sure. Fine. Perfect end to a perfect day,” Jimmy said sarcastically as they started to walk him down the hallway.

“Hey, guys. Wait a second,” Ehrmantraut said, causing them to stop in their tracks and look back. “I changed my mind.”

“I'm sorry, what?”

“I don't want to press charges.” The detectives left Jimmy to walk over to the irritated man.

“We talked about this. You want to press charges.” Ehrmantraut mockingly regarded what he had said.

“No. No I don't.”

“What are you doing, buddy? I thought you had our backs,” the other detective asked.

“No, I don't think I said that, buddy,” Ehrmantraut gritted out, his patience reaching its end.

“So, what you get a chance to do the right thing and you puss out?” The older man glared at them.

“Mm. Yeah. Well, I guess it's my loss.” Ehrmantraut walked away, leaving the annoyed detectives to release Jimmy who could not be more happy.

“Hey, Cagney, Lacey,” he said with a grin, “when you realize how wrong you are about all this, I'll take an edible arrangement as a sorry. Heavy on the pineapple.” The two scowled at him as he raced after the man who'd freed him. “Hey. Hold up. How come you let me off the hook back there,” he asked once he'd reached him. The man he'd chased down turned around to face him with a sigh.

“Look, I'm going back to work. Why don't you quit while you're ahead and go on your way,” he asked before turning back away. Jimmy put his hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“No, I refuse to believe it's because you have something resembling a heart inside your body.” Ehrmantraut pointed a finger at him.

“You're not gonna have a heart inside your body in about five seconds,” he threatened.

“Okay, don't tell me, all right? I already know why you did it.”

“Yeah? Why is that?”

“‘Cause you believe me. That family kidnapped themselves.” Ehrmantraut sighed, not wanting to justify the increasingly annoying man in front of him.

“Alright I believe you,” he relented.

After asking him why and talking it over with him for a bit, Jimmy decided to head back to the Kettlemans’. As he started to head out of the building he was surprised to find y/n, just getting through security.

“Y/n?” She looked over at him, startled by someone calling her name. Once she saw it was him she smiled and walked over to him. She wore high waisted denim jeans with a pink tank top tucked into it. Jimmy noted that the tank top matched with her eyeshadow perfectly. Kim does that too, he thought to himself.

“Hey, Jimmy,” y/n said with a grin.

“What're you doing here?”

“Well you heard about that family missing?” Jimmy rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I've maybe heard something about it,” he said in a worn out tone.

“Well they saw our friend Nacho’s van sitting outside their house and of course my neighbor Mrs. Sadkowski told the police that she saw that same van parked outside my house for the better part of last week,” y/n explained. Jimmy's eyes widened in realization.

“Oh shit.”

“Oh shit indeed.”

“Well what are you going to tell them,” Jimmy asked, his nerves going haywire.

“That I have no idea who Nacho is or why his van would be parked outside my house.” Jimmy breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank god. Look, I gotta go, but you call me as soon as you're out or if you need anything. You got it,” he asked, heading for the door. Y/n nodded at him with a smile.

“Got it. Thanks Jimmy.” He waved goodbye and headed out the main doors. Y/n watched him as he did, smiling at his mannerisms, before she continued on her way. She walked down the hall and was greeted by two nice looking detectives.

“Ms. Y/l/n,” one of them asked.

“You can call me y/n,” she said with a smile. She held out her hand for them to shake.

It was several hours later and the sun was starting to fall. Jimmy was wandering around in the god forsaken desert, looking for that god forsaken family. He was tired, his feet were sore, and he was sweating in places he didn't even think he could. He was just about ready to call it quits when his phone rang in his pocket. He took a deep breath and leaned against a nearby tree before he answered.

“Hello,” he said, out of breath.

“Jimmy, its y/n,” she said in an exhausted voice.

“What's up?”

“Well you told me to call you when I got out.”

“You just got out,” Jimmy asked, surprised. “Jesus, did they try and frame you too?”

“They insisted I knew where the family was,” y/n explained. Jimmy rubbed his eyes in frustration. “They said I had to know Nacho and that I had to know what he did with the family.”

“Christ, why didn't you call me?!” Y/n chuckled over the other line.

“Jimmy, I spent two years in law school. I can handle myself well enough.” Jimmy smiled to himself. “I'm driving home now though. Where are you?”

“I am wandering around the desert looking for the Kettlemans,” he said, looking around at his surroundings. 

“What?!” 

“Oh yeah. I'm living the dream.”

“Why are you wandering the desert, you aren't the Lone Ranger.”

“I think the Kettlemans are out here. I don't think they were kidnapped, I think they ran away,” Jimmy explained.

“Oh, that makes sense. The detectives told me a little about them. They sound like dumbasses.” As y/n spoke Jimmy thought he heard a faint sound of...something. At first he thought it was coming from y/n’s end but then he realized it was coming from somewhere off in the distance. It sounded like singing.

“Hey, y/n hold up a second,” he interrupted. He held the phone to his side as he walked towards the sound. He only had to walk a few feet until he spotted a tent, lit up from the inside by a lamp, silhouetting four figures inside. Jimmy laughed to himself. “You'll never guess who I just ran into.”

“You're shitting me,” y/n gasped into the phone.

“I'll have to call you tomorrow. You have a goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Jimmy,” she said kindly. Jimmy hung up and headed towards the tent, his feet arguing with each step.


	4. A Hero and a Villain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jimmy, Nacho, and y/n make some very bad decisions.

Nacho was not happy to have to wake up in a jail cell. He hadn't heard from that ambulance chasing piece of shit all night and the longer he had to wait, the longer the police had a chance to look into his business. 

Nacho was almost surprised when one of the detectives that'd been riding him all of yesterday reluctantly told him he was being cleared of all charges. Though he was relieved to be getting out, his jaw was still clenched with anger at the knowledge that that scumbag had done something to put him there, even if he hadn't set him up.

He could barely keep himself from shaking with rage as the detective walked him out into the hallway where McGill stood waiting for him.

“Whoa, whoa. Why is my client in handcuffs? This man is innocent. He's a victim. Why on earth would he be cuffed? Just go go ahead. Take them off,” he said when he saw them come out. The detective uncuffed Nacho, looking just as annoyed with the lawyer as he was. 

“There you go. Free at last! Hey, did he tell you the good news? Never even kidnapped how about that? A family can't go on a little vacation without the whole city going on lockdown? By the way, where is your partner? What? Did you lose the coin toss? Because we expect an apology from him, as well as you,” McGill called after as the detective started to walk away. Nacho simply stared at him, his hands clasped together as he waited for him to stop talking. The detective stopped to turn around to the two of them.

“You really don't want to push your luck with me, scumbag.” He looked at Nacho. “We got eyes on you, asshole. One little slip, just one.” Nacho didn't bother to respond.

“Yeah, well, you're both very pretty,” McGill taunted as the detective walked away. He turned to look at the man he'd just freed. “Well, I believe I did more than what you asked of me, so, uh, that would make us square, yes? Great. You need a ride?” Nacho raised an eyebrow at him.

“Camping? You expect me to believe that shit,” he growled out.

“Yeah, I know. The things people do, huh?”

“They decide to go camping right after I run my little offer by you?”

“It could be argued that all of life is one great coincidence,” McGill said, praying that he'd be out from under the man's dark glare soon. Said man took a threatening step forward.

“Somebody told those people to, um, go camping. Somebody warned them,” he said, not falling for his misdirections.

“They're very woodsy. And between you and me, They're pretty rash when it comes to the decision-making. I mean, they're not really the plan-ahead types.”

“Yeah, I'd cut the cute attitude right about now if I were you. You ratted on me. There will be consequences.”

“I didn't rat on you,” McGill said desperately.

“Well who did? Y/n?” The ever annoying man gulped, his anxiety growing as he thought about Nacho focusing his anger on the young woman.

“Y/n had nothing to do with it.”

“Well who did then,” Nacho snapped. McGill didn't answer, too shaken by his tone. The dealer gave him a promising look before he turned and started to walk away.

“Hey, if somebody warned the Kettlemans, it was probably somebody who was worried about those kids,” McGill spoke up. Nacho sighed and turned back around, walking until he was right up in his face.

“You know how much trouble you caused me?” McGill glared right back at him, standing at his full height.

“You didn't need any help getting caught, okay? The neighbor ID'd you. You were sloppy. Any trouble you might have that's on you. Not to mention the blood in your van. Here's a thought Ajax, formula 409! You have no idea the tap-dance I had to give those cops to get you out of here. You gave them probable cause out the wazoo. And whoever the somebody is who may have warned the Kettlemans got them out of there before you did anything even more stupid. You should be thanking this good Samaritan. Because whoever he is, he did you a favor,” he argued, causing Nacho’s glare to falter to one of confusion. 

People didn't often talk to him like that, and when they did they didn't often make it out without at least a few bruises. But this was a public place, a police station even, and it was broad daylight with several witnesses. Because of this, Nacho decided to direct his anger on someone he knew was alone at the moment.

He drove directly to y/n’s house from the station, after being sure no one was following him. It was Thursday and y/n didn't have work on Thursdays. She would still be home, probably doing chores if Nacho’s memory served him right. He decided on parking his van a couple blocks away since some neighbor had apparently called in saying they’d seen it. It had surprised Nacho when they asked how he knew y/n y/l/n. They'd said he'd parked outside her house for the better part of a week, which was true, and insisted that she'd helped him kidnap the family, which was not true.

He couldn't help but snicker to himself at the idea of tiny, innocent y/n ever committing a misdemeanor, let alone a felony as he walked through her neighbor’s yard into her backyard. He crouched down as he neared the back of her house, popping his head up to peer into the window. Y/n was inside, folding laundry and listening to music. He watched her for a moment, noting how her y/c/h was tied up into a loose bun, a few stray strands falling to frame her face. She wore an oversized band t shirt and shorts that showed off her legs. He waited until she left the room before creeping over to the back door, finding it unlocked. He slipped inside and closed it quietly behind him before he went to lean against the kitchen counter, waiting for her to notice him.

It took only a few minutes for y/n to realize she was no longer alone. She came into the kitchen, her head bobbing to the music, and her eyes immediately snapped over to Nacho. Rather than scream or jump like he'd expected, she simply sighed and walked over to the stereo that sat on a nearby table, pausing the music.

She turned back to face him and asked, almost annoyed, “what do you want now?” Nacho chuckled to himself.

“You don't seem very scared to have a stranger in your house.”

“Well this is the second time you've broken in, so excuse me if I'm not terrified,” y/n replied as she walked into the room, crossing her arms and leaning against the small dining table.

“Maybe you should be, I did just come from the station.”

“Yeah, I guessed that. They brought me in for questioning. My neighbor called in about your van that you used to follow me around in,” y/n said, sounding annoyed.

“They told me they questioned you,” Nacho said, disregarding the rest of her statement. “They thought you were in on the kidnapping.”

“Yup,” y/n said with a sigh. “They called me the Bonnie to your Clyde.” Nacho let out a surprised laugh.

“Really,” he asked, shocked. “They thought we were a thing?” Y/n nodded. 

“I reminded them that Bonnie and Clyde weren't actually a couple and then gave an alibi for the night of the Kettlemans’ kidnapping.”

“Weren't really kidnapped.”

“Yeah. I was on the phone with Jimmy when he found them. They fucked off to the desert with all their money.” Nacho raised an eyebrow at her.

“He said they had the money,” he asked.

“No, but they had to have it, right?” Y/n stood up and walked over to the kitchen sink, which was full of dirty dishes. “They're not just gonna leave a million and a half dollars at home.” Nacho watched as she turned on the faucet and started washing the dishes, her back turned to the intruder. He watched her in silence for a beat.

“You really are weird,” he said, referring to the last time he'd broken in.

“How am I weird, she asked indifferently.

“You get kidnapped and tied up in the desert, you're annoyed. A man breaks into your house and shoves a gun in your face, you're bothered. You get accused by the cops of first degree kidnapping, and you couldn't care less,” Nacho explained.

“They didn't really accuse me. No charges were made,” y/n replied, her back still turned to him. “They just wanted to ask a few questions.” Nacho took a step closer to her, a deep glare etching across his features.

“I have a few questions too,” he said, his anger seeping into his voice. He watched as her movements faltered for a moment, her hands freezing.

“What are they,” she asked, her voice soft with fear.

“Who did you tell about my plan?” 

“I didn't tell anyone.”

“Well someone told somebody something.” Y/n dropped the dish and scrubber she was holding to turn around and face him.

“I didn't tell anyone anything. Why would I,” she asked with a glare.

“Aren't you miss goody two-shoes? I bet you call the cops on suspicious dogs in the neighborhood.” Y/n smiled to herself and rubbed her eyes.

“Wow you really know nothing about me,” she said before she turned back around and continued washing the dishes.

“What's that supposed to mean? What's there to know,” Nacho asked, confused.

“Nothing. Don't worry about it.” Nacho watched as she worked, completely ignoring him. Him! The man she might've just ratted on. He felt his rage rush back into his body. He walked up to her, grabbed her by the arm, and forced her to face him, her once passive eyes changing to look up at him in fear. 

“You didn't tell anyone? Not even the family?”

“No,” y/n said through her clenched jaw, her scowl returning to her face.

“You didn't give them a warning? ‘Cause it's real convenient for them to go on their little family outing only a few days after I told you and McGill about my plan.”  
Y/n stared up at him as she ripped her arm out of his grasp.

“I didn't give anyone any warning. I didn't tell anyone anything.” The two stared at each other, both with deep frowns furrowing their brows. Nacho looked down at the woman in front of him, his pulse beating hard and his nostrils flaring. She looked right back up at him, her jaw clenched tight in anger.

“If I find out you're lying, you're going to be sorry,” he promised.

“Get out of my house,” y/n bite out. Nacho glared down at her for a moment longer before he backed away and went to the sliding door, slamming it closed behind him. As he walked back through her yard, he turned back around to see if she was watching him. To his surprise all he saw was her stooped over the counter, her back to him, and her shoulders shaking as she sobbed.

He felt a twinge of remorse twist in his chest as he watched her. He'd never seen her show any real emotion besides anger before. She seemed so strong and he was shocked that he'd broken her down. He felt himself wanting to rush back in. To apologize and swear he'd never hurt her. 

Nacho pushed these thoughts away and continued walking, going fast so no neighbors would see him. He found himself still thinking about y/n crying all alone as he got in his car. Why did he care if she was upset, he asked himself. She's just some nobody that got caught in the middle of everything. This was probably the last time he'd ever see her. 

It took several minutes for y/n to calm down after Nacho left. She was surprised that she'd fallen apart like that. She usually could keep her emotions under control but these past few weeks had been taking a toll on her.

Besides the obvious stress of the kidnapping, stalking, and questioning by the police, y/n was having money problems. Though her admin job at the college was paying a decent amount, she was still struggling. Aside from the usual credit card debt that everyone pays, she was still far behind with her college and law school loans. The admin job and whatever odd jobs she could get just weren't cutting it.

So when a dangerous man broke into her house, yet again, to threaten her about something she did actually do; she couldn't keep her emotions in check any longer. She was just glad he hadn't seen her looking so vulnerable. 

After y/n caught her breath and wiped the tears from her cheeks, she went back to washing the dishes. As she worked she thought about what she could do to make some money. Her thoughts immediately went to the old jobs she had worked out of college. The ones that she couldn't ever tell anyone about. The ones that required her to buy a gun. The ones she had nightmares about. The ones she might have to do again.

Y/n chewed on her bottom lip as she debated whether it was the right thing to do. She decided she had no other options and bit the bullet, abandoning her dirty dishes and going over to her phone. She went through her contacts, landing on the name of her old high school friend, before she hit call. She wiped her eyes one last time before her old friend picked up.

“Hello,” he asked tiredly.

“Hey, Caldera. How's the vet business treating ya?”

They decided on meeting the following Tuesday to discuss possible job prospects. Though y/n was excited about finally making some real money, she was hesitant about making it this way. She'd never done anything illegal per se, but backing up known criminals and being prepared to shoot or be shot wasn't exactly the most clean cut profession a person could have. But y/n was desperate and she'd only have to do a couple jobs to be caught up with her loans and credit card payments and that would be enough.

Caldera was happy to see her, despite the circumstances, and the two got caught up before he started asking her what kind of work she'd be willing to do.

“Same as before. Security or protection. Not anything I'd get killed over,” y/n explained.

“I can do that. There's nothing in right now, but as soon as there is I'll let you know.” Y/n nodded.

“Thank you.” 

“You take care of yourself, y/n,” the vet said. She smiled back at him as she walked out of the empty lobby of the veterinarian office.

“You too, Caldera,” she said before she left.

The next day y/n called Jimmy, wanting to firstly make sure he was doing alright and secondly try and get her mind off waiting for the vet’s call.

“Hey Jimmy,” she greeted once Jimmy answered.

“Hey y/n,” he replied, sounding worn out.

“What's wrong?”

“I just have a little issue that I'm dealing with.”

“What kind of issue,” y/n asked.

“Legal.”

“Like with a case?”

“Eh. More like with marketing,” Jimmy said.

“Oh. I'm sorry.”

“Yeah, well. It's my own fault I guess.” The two didn't talk for a moment, both tired and not exactly sure of what to say. “Hey, actually could you do me a favor,” Jimmy finally asked.

“What is it,” y/n asked confused.

“Do you know anyone that I could hire to do something not strictly illegal but definitely dangerous and public?”

“Um,” y/n paused to think. “No. But I know someone who might.”

Later the next day she was watching TV, channel surfing, until suddenly Jimmy's face flashed across her screen. Her eyes widened and she went back, stopping on a news channel. It was Jimmy being interviewed in front of a build board that depicted him obviously dressed up to mock someone in particular. Y/n laughed to herself.

“I was scared, yes. I mean, I'm not really a big fan of heights. Let me tell you. But, you know, something inside me said, ‘you have to do this’. I'm sure our city's first responders would have been here momentarily,” her friend said to the news respondent.

“Jimmy. Oh my god,” she said to herself, shaking her head in disbelief, a broad smile on her face. He wouldn't tell her what the job was. He must've paid the man to fall of the billboard so he could save him and look like a hero. Y/n listened as Jimmy described how he saved the man, peppering in the fact that he was a lawyer and saying that he helped people everyday.

Meanwhile, at Hamlin Hamlin McGill, Howard was complaining about how Jimmy must've staged the whole thing and how no one would buy it while Kim smiled to herself, much like y/n was doing back at home.

Across town at his father’s house, Nacho was watching the news with his father, cracking his knuckles in irritation at the sight of the man who somehow always managed to weasel his way into his day. 

“Escuchas esto,” his father asked. “Es un héroe.” Nacho smiled tightly at him. (Do you hear this?) (He's a hero.)

“Si.” 

“But I think my clients know that when they're in trouble, I'm there. I was just a guy who was in the right place at the right time,” McGill said on the screen. Nacho clenched his jaw, his anger growing.


	5. IV Drips and Greasy Pizza

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck gives Jimmy a scare and Nacho scares the shit out of y/n.

“Put it on the nail, not the skin,” Kim said as she leaned down the wipe the excess nail polish off her toe. She sat in one of the salon’s many massage chairs, trying to unwind as Jimmy painted her nails. Though she appreciated his efforts, pedicures were not his strong suit.

“I can't help it if your toes are too small. They should all the same size. The size of the big toe,” Jimmy said while he continued to work. “That one I can do.”

“Yeah, that would be attractive,” Kim said sarcastically as she leaned back, smiling down at her friend. “So, how'd it go again?”

“Oh, you're huge, Chandler,” he said in a cartoonish voice, mocking a toilet he'd heard earlier that day. “You're a big big boy! Oh, where does it end?” Kim burst out laughing. “Oh, here it comes! Oh, what is it?” He looked up at her, smiling brightly. “Is that a piece of corn?” She snorted with laughter.

“No, don't,” she said, trying to calm down.

“Did you eat corn, Chandler? Is that a niblet I see,” Jimmy continued.

“Don't,” Kim groaned, her cheeks sore from laughing.

“Too much,” Jimmy asked in his normal voice. “Hey, good times,” he said before going back to painting her nails.

“Even your bad days are more interesting than mine.”

“Yeah, well, we should definitely do something about that.” The two looked at each other, sharing a smile. Kim broke it to look down at where Jimmy had again messed up on her nails.

“Seriously, don't ever make a living at this,” she said as she bent down to fix it. “Stick with the law.”

“Yeah, because I'm really lighting the world on fire in that department,” he said sarcastically.

“You started two wills today.”

“Two wills, and I started a living trust. Whoopee! Old people love me,” Jimmy said in mock glee.

“Maybe you have a future in elder law.”

“You think I could handle all that glamor?”

“No, I'm serious. I've thought about getting into elder law myself.” Jimmy gave a confused look. “I watched my grandmother at the end. It's awful what people have to deal with. Insurance companies, my scumbag cousins stealing her savings and her pain meds,” Kim explained. “Getting old sucks. Seniors need someone on their side.” Jimmy nodded before he went back to finishing up her last two toes, being extra careful on the pinky.

“It's nice having work to do though. I may have to even cancel my lunch tomorrow to finish up that trust. Never had to do that before.”

“Who're you having lunch with,” Kim asked.

“A friend. Her name is y/n,” Jimmy said as he sat up, screwing the nail polish bottle closed. When he looked back up at Kim she was giving him a sly grin.

“Y/n, huh? Is she cute?”

“She is very cute and far too young for me,” Jimmy said with a smile. “And I'm not making nearly enough to label myself a sugar daddy.” Kim chuckled.

“Where do you know her from?”

“Um,” Jimmy paused, trying to think of how to word their relationship without mentioning the scam or the kidnapping or the blackmailing. “She's a family member of some former clients,” he finally settled on. “We met for lunch and kinda hit it off. She's great you'd really like her.”

“Yeah, I'd love to meet her some time,” Kim said, excited to hear that her friend wasn't spending all his time locked up in the back of the salon or taking care of his brother. The two sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Kim’s phone rang. She sighed and took it out of her purse, looking at the caller ID. “It's Howard,” she said, surprised.

“What the hell does he want,” Jimmy asked, annoyed that he was calling Kim so late at night and interrupting their conversation. She shushed him before answering.

“Hi, Howard,” she greeted. “Uh, no. I mean I haven't uh. Oh my god.” Jimmy gave her a confused look as she talked into the phone. “When? Yeah okay. I'll see if I can um, track Jimmy down,” she said before looking down at her friend with a worried expression. “I'll call you back. Sure.” She hung up and looked back at her friend. “It's Chuck.” 

The two rushed to the hospital and after shutting all the lights off, almost getting kicked out, and explaining the situation to the doctor, Chuck was finally awake and talking. Jimmy was getting ready to take him home, tired of hearing people trying to convince him to commit his brother. 

“What if he just hurts himself in a household accident,” Dr. Cruz asked. “How does he call for help? You have the power to help your brother, truly help him. Ignoring this won't make it go away.” Jimmy gave her a tired expression before looking to Kim.

“What would you do,” he asked her. She hesitated before answering, thinking of her wording.

“All I know is he needs help.” Jimmy thought it over for a moment before looking back at the doctor. 

“Untie him. I'm getting him out of here.” She gave him a disappointed expression.

“A nurse will bring you the release forms,” she said before walking away. Jimmy waited until she collected her electrical possessions before grabbing his own. Kim watched him as he did, wanting to say something comforting, but got distracted by the sight of Howard walking towards them before she could say anything.

“Oh boy,” she muttered to herself, gaining Jimmy’s attention.

“Jimmy,” Howard called as he walked over.

“I found him,” his employee said as they walked over to him. “I thought I'd wait until you got here.”

“Great. How's he doing?”

“Better. Resting,” Jimmy answered.

“Good. Uh, Jimmy I want you to know I've talked to the DA, and he absolutely will not sign off on any commitment papers. This is a physical condition, not a mental one. Chuck is of sound mind. I think we can all agree on that.” The older man raised an eyebrow at him.

“You're a real peach, Howard,” he said dryly. “Of course you don't want Chuck committed.”

“No, I don't. Why would I,” the bleach blond man asked.

“Because if Chuck were committed I'd become his legal guardian, and I'd cash him out of HHM.” Kim groaned tiredly beside him. Jimmy chose to ignore her.

“Jesus, Jimmy. Now? You want to hash that out while he's lying in there,” Howard asked, pointing at his friend’s hospital room.

“You know the tanning bed must've melted your brain if you think for one second-”

“Guys,” Kim butted in. “Chuck. That's why we're here.”

“Yes. Let's stay on point. We're talking about the well-being of a man whom we all love very much. There's many factors at play. Spite doesn't have to be one of them,” Howard said, practically looking down on Jimmy.

“You know what, Howard? I was on the fence till you showed up, but thanks for helping me decide. Wave bye-bye to your cash cow, ‘cause it's leaving the pasture. I'm committing him,” he said harshly before storming off. Howard and Kim shared a look of utter confusion before she went after him.

“Jimmy. Wait. Jimmy, wait,” she said as she followed him. “Jimmy, can you wait?” He stopped to talk to her, his face sour. “Listen, I agree that Chuck needs help, and maybe it's the right thing to do, but you can't do it like this.”

“I just wanted to see that son of a bitch sweat. It's so obvious what he's afraid of,” he explained. “I'm taking my brother home.” With that, Jimmy walked off to go sign the release forms and left Kim to talk to her weasley boss. 

The next morning, when Chuck was finally home and safe, Jimmy allowed himself to relax as he left his brother's house. Just gotta finish up those two wills and that trust, he thought to himself as he walked to the mailbox to retrieve his belongings. Shit, I need to cancel lunch. He grabbed his things and after putting his watch back on, called y/n.

“Hey, Jimmy,” she answered.

“Hey y/n. How're you,” he asked, trying to keep the tiredness out of his voice.

“I'm good, I'm excited for our lunch today.”

“About that…”

“Do you need to cancel,” she asked, a smile in her voice.

“I do. I'm sorry. I just got a lot to finish up today.”

“Well, would you want me to pick you up something? We can eat in your office,” y/n offered. Jimmy smiled to himself, grateful for having such a kind friend.

“That would be great,” he said.

“Do you want me to pick something up from Loyola’s?”

“Do they do carry out,” Jimmy asked as he got into his car.

“That do for me,” y/n said. He chuckled.

“That’d be great. Wanna just get my regular?”

“Can do. I'll see you later, Jimmy.”

“Bye,” he said before hanging up. He tossed his phone into the passenger seat and smiled to himself before driving off, back to the salon.

After having lunch with Jimmy, y/n ended up hanging out in his office for most of the day. She kept him company while he finished his work and they ended the day with pizza and some old lawyer movie that Jimmy paused every couple minutes to take notes on the character’s suit. He wouldn't explain why and y/n decided to not question it any further. It was around ten when she finally left, the sun having just set.

While y/n drove she noticed a very similar van sitting abandoned a block over from her house. She rolled her eyes and continued her drive, knowing who'd be waiting for her when she got home.

She parked her car and walked up to her front door, balancing the pizza leftovers on one arm while she struggled to unlock it with the other. When y/n finally got the door open she found Nacho sitting on her couch, a nearby lamp lit, waiting for her.

“Hey,” she said, nonchalantly. She turned on the main light and went over to her dining room table to set her things down.

“Not very surprised to see me,” the man commented.

“I passed your van on my way over,” y/n explained. Nacho chuckled to himself and stood up to walk over to her.

“Where were you? I must've waited for an hour and a half,” he joked, a small smile on his face.

“Yeah, sorry about that. If I had known you'd been breaking in I would've come home early,” y/n said before she turned to face him, flashing her own grin. “I was hanging out with Jimmy.” Nacho’s smile instantly fell.

“Ugh. I hate that lawyer,” he muttered before he walked over to her counter, leaning against it.

“Why? Didn't he clear your name?”

“I wouldn't have been in there at all if it weren't for him,” the criminal said in an annoyed tone.

“The neighbor got your license plate. You were sloppy,” y/n said as she opened the pizza box up, pulling out a slice and taking a bite before she turned to face him, leaning her hip on the table. Nacho watched her movements with appreciative eyes. She wore high waisted jeans that showed off her curves and a crop top that showed just a glimpse of skin. His smile returned to his face.

“I saw him on the news the other night.”

“For saving that guy on the billboard,” y/n asked before taking another bite. Nacho nodded. 

“They called him a hero.”

“Yeah, well, he set it up to happen. So, maybe not so much.”

“He did,” Nacho asked, surprised not so much by the act but the thought behind it.

“Yeah. I introduced him to the guy who fell,” y/n explained.

“How'd you do that,” the intruder asked, incredulously.

“I put him in touch with the vet.”

“You know the vet,” he asked, now shocked.

“Uh, yeah? We go way back,” y/n answered, taking another bite of the cold pizza.

“You and the vet go way back,” Nacho asked through a laugh. Y/n let out her own laugh.

“We went to college together,” she said. “He set me up with some jobs a while back.”

“You did jobs from the vet,” the taller man asked, his voice quiet with surprise and disbelief. He watched as the young woman’s smile fell from her face. She hadn't meant to say that. His own smile turned darker as he stepped away from the counter. He watched as y/n threw the half eaten pizza slice back into the box, wiping her hands off on her jeans before clearing her throat.

“Nacho, I'm not-”

“You know I was just talking to the vet,” he said, cutting her off. He took a step towards her. “I was looking for some guys for a job and he told me about some girl who'd maybe be interested.”

“I don't-”

“He said she'd been out of the game for a while,” Nacho continued, taking another step closer. Y/n took a small step back. “He said this girl knew how to handle herself. I'm thinking that girl is you.”

“Nacho. Seriously,” y/n tried again, looking more and more nervous.

“But it got me thinking,” the man interrupted, brushing off her injections and obvious anxiety. “I always was confused about why you were so calm out in that desert. And again when I broke into your house and threatened you. And the time after that.” His dark smile grew as he stepped ever closer, now right in front of her. She didn't back away but she did keep her head down to not meet his gaze. “You're not as innocent as you say, huh?”

They stood like that for a long moment. Y/n staring down at the floor, her hands clenching and unclenching in nervousness as she struggled to think of what to say. And Nacho looking down at her, amused by her anxiety.

“I'm not mad about it. I don't care what you do,” he said, finally easing up on her. Y/n met his gaze, a frown etched into her features.

“What's wrong with you?! Why'd you scare me like that,” she shouted. Nacho grinned down at her.

“It's funny to watch you get all nervous.” Y/n laughed and put her face in her hands.

“Oh my god. You're such an asshole.” Nacho let out his own laugh and took a step back, giving her room. “Do you want a slice? We can talk about that job of yours,” the shorter woman said as she turned back to the table. He felt his smile drop in surprise.

“Yeah, um,” he paused to clear his throat. “That'd be great.” He watched as y/n moved pass him to grab two plates from a cabinet. She walked back over and handed him one before going back to the pizza box, grabbing her half eaten slice and another. Nacho watched as she did, holding the plate nervously in hands, a strange and unfamiliar feeling emerging in his chest.


	6. A Friend Today Could Be An Enemy Tomorrow (And Vice Versa)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/n makes some friends while Jimmy makes some enemies.

Nacho ended up staying at y/n’s longer than he'd expected. They ate pizza and talked about the job, and at some point the conversation flowed into them just chatting about anything and everything they could think of. Nacho was surprised to find that he actually liked hanging out with y/n, even if they didn't have the best first impressions. It was late when he finally decided to go, his yawns warning him not to get too comfortable.

“I'm gonna head out,” he said as he stood up from her couch where they'd been sitting together for nearly two hours now.

“Oh. Okay,” y/n said, sounding surprised. He gave her a sly smile.

“You sad to see me go?”

“Oh, no.” Nacho was almost hurt by her bluntness. “I'm just surprised. You never said why you were here.” Oh shit, Nacho thought to himself.

He’d wanted to see if she was alright after her little breakdown from the last time they'd talked. He'd planned to cover up his true intention with some bullshit about how Tuco had wanted him to refresh her memory so she wouldn't go to the cops, but after two hours of laughing and talking, he knew that excuse wouldn't hold up.

“I just wanted to know if the cops have asked you anymore about me,” he finally said, happy with his explanation.

“Oh. No they haven't talked to me since,” y/n said, picking up their plates from the coffee table and heading into the kitchen. Nacho followed behind her. “You know, you could've just called me. You wouldn't have had to go through the trouble of parking a block away and sneaking in,” she said as she started to wash off the dishes.

“I don't have your number,” Nacho said as he watched her work, an annoying combination of excitement and worry whirling around in his gut.

“You tracked down who I am and where I live but you couldn't find my cell phone number,” y/n asked, turning to flash him a smile.

“I mean, I'm sure I could,” the anxious man said quietly, trying to hide his true emotions. Y/n set the two dishes in the drying rack and turned around fully to give him a grin. 

“Well, why don't you do that and you can call me if you have any questions or any leads on jobs.”

“Okay. Um, I'll text you when I get it so you know it's me,” Nacho said awkwardly as he started to walk towards the back door.

“Okay, sounds good. I'll talk to you later.”

“Bye,” the man said as he exited her small home and closed the door behind him. He started to walk back through her yard but stopped to glance behind him. Through the window he could see her wiping down her counters, a bored but content look on her sweet face. “Fucking goddamn it,” Nacho grumbled to himself as he shoved his hands in his leather jacket and stomped through her neighbor's yard to his car.

The next morning y/n decided to get breakfast at her favorite local restaurant, Loyola’s. She stepped inside, waving to Fran as she sat down in one of the booths that looked out onto the street. After a few minutes the waitress came over to her, a cup of coffee in hand.

“Hey, y/n. How are you?”

“I'm good. How are you?”

“You know, can't complain. The usual?”

“Yes please. Can I get some extra bacon though,” y/n asked.

“Anything for my favorite customer. That'll be right out,” the older woman said with a grin.

“Thanks, Fran.”

Y/n ate in silence, happy to be free of any known criminals annoying her for the first time in what felt like weeks. She listened as Fran talked to another customer behind her. He sounded older and seemed to be exhausted based on the tone of his voice, but y/n was happy to know other people treated Fran nicely.

She didn't think much of the man until she was getting up to leave and he accidentally knocked his pen on the ground.

“Oh, let me get that for you,” y/n said before she handed the man his pen.

“Thank you,” he said as he took it from her.

Y/n noted his sad, almost beaten expression, and asked softly, “are you alright?”

“I'm fine. Thank you,” the man said with a strained smile. Y/n returned it and left the restaurant, hoping the man’s day got better.

Only a couple hours later Jimmy would be sitting in the same restaurant, talking with Mr. and Mrs. Kettleman.

“So, your previous objections to my representing you are now,” the lawyer trailed off, confused as to why the two suddenly changed their minds about him.

“Oh, I'm sorry for my bluntness at our last encounter,” Betsy said.

“Unfortunate,” Craig chimed in.

“Mhm. Yeah,” his wife agreed.

“But really we’re very sorry about that.”

“We thought long and hard and it, and um, we-” Betsy started before Craig continued.

“You know, given your passion and your can-do attitude, we really, we believe you're the lawyer for us.”

“For us, yes,” Betsy finished. Jimmy gave them a smile.

“Well, as flattered as I am by this, um, since we last spoke I've changed my area of specialization. I concentrate on elder law now,” he explained.

“But, I mean, you said that you would fight for us. Yeah, you were you were adamant,” Craig said with a worried expression.

“You promised to get us a non-guilty verdict.”

“I don't think I exactly promised that,” Jimmy said.

“You said we would be client number one. Morning, noon, or night,” Betsy argued.

“Yes. And I meant what I said. At the time. But times change.” The woman leveled him with a glare.

“But we've already paid you a retainer,” she said lowly.

“Right. A retainer,” the lawyer said, worry starting to bubble up in his gut.

“That's what you called it. That was your specific terminology,” the woman said, almost proud of herself. Jimmy stared at her for a moment, trying to think of what to say.

“It,” he started. “Could you excuse me for a moment. I, uh, had a big gulp in my way over.”

“Uh oh,” Craig said with a laugh as Jimmy got up from his seat.

Jimmy went into the bathroom and called Kim. And after a short conversation which ended in him promising to try and get them to go back to his rival’s firm, he returned to the table where Mr. and Mrs. Moron both sat.

“Sorry. Whoo! The mysteries of the bladder,” Jimmy said as he sat down.

“Right,” Craig said with a chuckle.

“So, how do we get started? Do you need us to sign that little paper?”

“I am very sorry, but I'm afraid I can't take your case. My schedule is just chock-full right now. I highly encourage you to go back to HHM. I'm certain they would welcome you with open arms,” Jimmy said, praying that these two would listen to reason for once.

“No, we're not going back there. They were incompatible.”

“I understand. They asked you to face some harsh realities, and I get it no one likes that. But bottom line here Kim Wexler is a fine attorney. She has a great relationship with the D.A. Much as I'd love to sing my own praises, I doubt I could get you a deal as good as the one she already has.”

“Okay. We don't want a deal. We want you, our lawyer, to exonerate Craig,” Betsy said in a low tone.

“‘Exonerate’? That's a big word, particularly in your case,” Jimmy said, getting more and more tired from the conversation.

“There will be no deal. There is no money with which to make a deal.”

“We can we all three just parachute down from cloud cuckoo land? 'Cause we know, without question, there is money.”

“No, there-” Betsy tried.

“I distinctly remember a spirited game of tug-of-war over this money,” Jimmy continued, “money which we then discussed at length. You made many excuses justifying your possession of said money. It's there. It exists.”

“But-” Mrs. Kettleman tried again to cut in.

“Shh. Now, just please, for my own sanity,” Jimmy pressed on, “You can't hide a big bag of cash forever, and you certainly will never be able to spend any of it. So, go back to HHM, apologize to Ms. Wexler, and for Christ's sakes, take the deal.”

“If there were any money,” Betsy said evenly.

“Lady, enough!”

“If there were any money,” the woman said, taking her turn to interrupt him, “there would have to be a full accounting of it. Every penny would have to be present every single penny. You understand?” Jimmy felt a sense of dread settle in his stomach.

“All of it,” Craig said, ruining the moment, “that includes the thirty-thousand that you-”

“Craig, yes, he gets it,” Betsy shouted at him before looking back to their new lawyer. “We're in this together, Mr. McGill. Come what may. Now, where do we begin?”

Not an hour later Howard was escorting Jimmy to Kim’s office to pick up all the files on the Kettlemans’ case. 

Once they stopped in the doorway Howard said, there you go. Kettleman. That's all of it.” Jimmy looked around the small office once he realized none of his friend’s things were in there.

“Where's Kim?”

“We moved her over to the east wing.”

“The east wing? That's the cornfield. Why are you sending her to the cornfield, Howard?”

“Never heard it called that before,” Howard said with a small smile.

“Well, that's what you call it. You gonna punish her just 'cause you lost those two batshit Kettlemans? You notice I'm not exactly crowing over how I snaked them away from you.”

“Jimmy, here are your files. I'm not gonna discuss my employee policies with you,” the other man said sternly.

“I'm gonna need some help here,” Jimmy said, gesturing to the boxes that scattered the room.

“Yeah. You are,” Howard said before walking away.

He walked down to the lobby to track down Ernie and was talking to him about deleting what files they had left on the Kettlemans when he saw a young woman get off the elevators that connected to the parking parking garage. She wore black, high waisted jeans and a striped shirt. She looked around the lobby confused, but started to walk over to where the two men stood once she saw him staring.

“Um, excuse me. Sorry for interrupting,” she greeted.

“No problem. What can I help you with,” Howard asked, flashing a smile.

“Well, my friend Jimmy asked me to come here. He said he needed help moving some files.” Howard’s grin fell.

“Yeah. I can take you up to him,” he said in an almost disappointed voice. 

“Great, thank you,” the woman said cheerfully. Howard felt his smile start to stretch across his face again.

“I'm Howard by the way. Howard Hamlin,” he introduced himself as he led her up the stairs.

“Oh, I'm y/n. Are you one of the Hamlins of Hamlin Hamlin,” she joked.

“Sure am.”

“Which one?” Howard burst out laughing, having to stifle himself once they walked through the cubicles. His smile had again fallen from his face once they reached Kim's old office, where Jimmy was struggling to put boxes on a dolly.

“Jimmy, your friend’s here.”

“Great. Thanks for bringing her up, Howard. Y/n, you mind grabbing a box?”

“Sure thing, boss.” Howard watched as the woman took a hair tie off her wrist and used it to pull up her hair before she got to work helping Jimmy.

“I'll have Ernie bring up another dolly,” he said quietly before he walked away.

“Gross. I think he has a thing for you,” Jimmy said, his voice out of breath.

“He reminds me of Data from Star Trek. Not interested,” y/n said, happy to see her obviously stressed friend smile at her joke.

It was difficult getting the overstuffed dollys down the hall and to the elevators. They agreed that Jimmy would go first since they could only fit in one at a time, and they'd meet at his car. He wasn't too surprised to find Kim standing in their usual spot, smoking a cigarette. Jimmy set the dolly down and went to stand next to her.

“That prick firing you?”

Best case scenario, my two-year plan just became a ten-year plan,” Kim said tiredly.

“That schmuck. You didn't do anything wrong.”

“I lost the client.”

“Not your fault. They're not playing with a full deck, those Kettlemans.” 

“You had to take their case?”

“I'm sorry, okay? I tried. I really did,” Jimmy said sadly.

“I'm not being fair. Of course you tried. They'll do what they want to do. Hope you didn't promise them too much. I doubt you'll be able to do more for them than we were offering.”

“You think very highly of my skills, obviously,” Jimmy said sarcastically.

“It's not that, Jimmy. It's a loser case. That deal was their best chance. After I worked my ass off finagling with the D.A., and it's just like,” Kim trailed off, too stressed and tired to put much thought into what she was saying. “Whatever.”

“There's got to be a way, you know? I take it to court-”

“You'll lose,” Kim cut in, “Kettleman did a terrible job covering his tracks. For starters, they've got reams of checks he wrote for false expenses. And I can't even challenge their admission into evidence because he wrote them to himself. I know we're never supposed to say our clients are guilty, but, hey, not my client anymore. He's guilty as sin.”

“Yeah, but there has to be something. Some loophole or,” Jimmy trailed off as he stared at the stack of boxes next to them.

“None that I could find.”

“There has to be a way.”

“Not without the money. It's the only chip the Kettlemans have and they refuse to play it.” The ding of the elevator caught them both off guard. “Who's that,” Kim asked quietly as she stomped her cigarette out.

“Y/n. She's helping me move boxes. Howard has a thing for her.” Kim cringed as a younger woman pushed another dolly into the parking garage, setting it down next to Jimmy's. “What took you so long? You get lost,” Jimmy asked his friend as she pushed the loose hair off her face.

“Body perm asked me for my number,” she said in an annoyed tone as she walked over to them.

“Yikes. What'd you say,” Jimmy asked.

“Thanks but no thanks. I figured I shouldn't burn any bridges, especially since I'm still planning on marrying rich.” Kim chuckled at the woman's joke. She gave her a grin and held out her hand. “I'm y/n by the way.”

“Kim.” They shook hands.

“Oh, Jimmy's told me about you. He said you have a thing for movies where guys die on the North Pole.” Kim turned to Jimmy with a smile.

“‘The Thing takes place on the South Pole.”

“That's literally the exact opposite,” y/n agreed. Jimmy looked between his two friends and smiled.

Two days later, y/n was just leaving work when her phone buzzed with a notification. She flipped it open and read the text from an unknown number.

“Guess who”.

“Took u longer than I expected” she responded.

“Busy week”. Y/n chuckled to herself and was about to throw her phone back in her purse when it buzzed again, this time alerting a call. She answered without seeing who it was.

“What, texting wasn't doing it for you,” she asked playfully when an unexpected voice responded.

“What,” Jimmy asked over the other line.

“Shit, sorry. I thought you were someone else. What's up?”

“You wanna get a drink? I've had a lousy day,” her friend asked tiredly.


	7. New Relationships

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/n and Nacho become closer which is good. Y/n meets Chuck which is bad.

Turns out Jimmy had more than a lousy day. He told y/n over drinks how he'd been blackmailed into representing those two idiots and how he had to trick them so he could get their money. Y/n knew he felt bad, but she also knew what he'd done was for the greater good.

“You did the right thing, Jimmy. Really.”

“I took a bribe and then I had a man to break into their home and steal their money,” he said in a broken voice as he took a drink.

“Jimmy, they stole that money first. You got it back to its rightful owners. And you said you put the money you took back, right,” y/n said, putting her hand on his shoulder to try and comfort him.

“I don't know,” he said, not sounding too convinced.

“Jimmy, look at me,” his friend finally said in a stern voice. Jimmy begrudgingly looked over at her. “If you didn't do what you did, they would've forced you to take it to trial and you would've lost, and those kids would've grown up without a dad. The mom would've probably told people about the bribe and then you two would've been in jail with him. You did the right thing even if it doesn't feel like it,” y/n said, giving his shoulder a squeeze. He finally gave her a small smile.

“Okay, okay. I get it. I'm a hero.”

“A superhero.”

“A national treasure.”

“A Saint.” The two laughed and Jimmy looked down at his watch to check the time before he finished off his drink.

“Okay, I gotta get going. I have to meet a client early tomorrow,” he said as he took out some money from his wallet and threw it on the bar.

“Have a good night,” y/n said with a smile.

“You too. And thank you. For what you said,” Jimmy said, looking much more happier.

“Any time.” Jimmy gave her one last smile before walking out of the bar and leaving y/n alone. She took a long drink of her beer and by the time she set it down another man was sitting next to her. “Can I help you,” she asked once she saw the man staring at her.

“Just taking in the view,” the balding man said as he looked y/n up and down. She scoffed.

“God, could you not? I'm really not in the mood to be hit on by some old guy,” she said before she faced forward, planning on ignoring him until he left.

“Some old guy? I'm only thirty-eight,” the man shouted. Y/n glanced back at him with a raised eyebrow, looking at his beer gut and deep wrinkles.

“Thirty-eight. Sure.” The man stood up from his seat and loomed over her. Y/n made no attempt to move and simply looked up at him, unphased. A few people around them went silent to see what was happening.

“Listen, bitch. I don't know who you-” He was cut off by a hand coming down hard on his shoulder. He turned around to see a young, dangerous looking man, standing behind him.

“Excuse me, sir. Can I help you,” Nacho said in a cold voice.

“Back off,” the man said angrily.

“No, I don't think I will. Considering you just called my girl a bitch.” The man visibly deflated at the deadly look in the younger man’s eyes.

“Whatever,” he mumbled before he shook Nacho’s hand off his shoulder and stormed out. Nacho watched him go, a glare etched into his features. While he did, y/n looked her hero over. He was wearing dark jeans and a leather jacket that fit his frame well. Y/n had to stop herself from staring once he looked back at her.

“You okay,” he asked.

“I'm fine. Thanks for stepping in, you really didn't have to.” 

“It's no big deal,” Nacho said as he sat down next to her. The crowd around them went back to their conversations. “I saw you hanging out with the lawyer.”

“You stalking me again,” y/n asked before taking a drink.

“No. I was on a date, but she took off early.”

“Could it be because you're a known criminal who was arrested for suspicion of kidnapping a few weeks ago,” y/n asked sarcastically.

“Actually, she has work early in the morning,” Nacho said with a smile. 

“Why are you seeing other people anyway when I'm ‘your girl’,” y/n asked. Nacho’s smile fell in surprise.

“What?”

“That's what you told that guy. That I'm ‘your girl’.”

“Oh. Yeah, I was just trying to get him to leave you alone.” Y/n flashed him a smile before she turned to flag down the bartender. Nacho watched her as she did. She wore black skinny jeans and a pink crop top. The color complimented her makeup well and Nacho found himself staring at where her y/c/h hair fell against her back.

“And whatever he wants,” y/n’s voice suddenly cut into his thoughts. He looked up to see the bartender waiting for his order. 

“Um, whatever she's having,” he said lamely. The bartender nodded and went to get their drinks. 

“So how was your date,” y/n asked.

“It was fine. I don't think I'll call her again though.”

“You picky about your girlfriends,” y/n asked sarcastically.

“Not really. I just have a specific type.”

“Wow. I wouldn't have pegged you for the kinda guy to have a type,” the woman next to him said before she finished off her drink.

“Really? What kinda guy did you have me pegged for,” Nacho asked with a smile as he leaned forward. 

“I see you more as a loner, not dating anyone. Maybe a one nightstand every once and awhile.”

“Yeah, I'm not really into the one nightstand thing.” They stared at each other, each with promise and flirtation in their eyes, as the bartender came back over with their drinks. Y/n broke their gaze to thank the man.

“No problem,” he replied, stopping to give her a charming smile before going back to work. Nacho glared at the man as he walked away, but was brought back by y/n sliding his beer closer to him.

“Drink up. I need someone to actually keep up with me,” she joked.

“I can do that,” Nacho said with a smile before the two took a drink.

A few days after that night at the bar, Jimmy called y/n with another favor.

“You need me to go to your brother's house and answer the door for him when some guys drop off some files,” she asked over the phone.

“Yeah, I’d be there myself but I'm out talking to clients.”

“And why can't he just answer the door?”

“He has this condition, he's allergic to electricity,” Jimmy tried to explain quickly. Wherever he was he was in a rush.

“So, should I keep my phone and stuff outside,” y/n questioned.

“Yeah, in the mailbox. Thank you, y/n.”

“No problem. I'll see you later.”

“Alright, bye.” With that Jimmy hung up and not a moment later, y/n’s name was being called.

She stood up from her spot in the vet lobby and went over to where the assistant vet was standing, her cousin’s lizard carrier in hand. She led y/n back to the examination room, the two passing by a familiar older man, holding a small dog, as they went. They gave each other a polite smile and then y/n was met by Caldera.

“Hey, y/n. How are you,” he greeted.

“I’m good. I got my cousin’s lizard. Lars said he won't drink his water,” she explained as she set the plastic carrier down. 

“How is Lars? I haven't seen him in years,” Caldera asked as he took the hand-sized gecko out of its container.

“He's okay. He would've brought him in himself but he broke his leg a couple weeks ago.”

“How'd he do that,” the vet asked as he looked the animal over.

“Skateboarding.” Caldera chuckled as he set the lizard back in its carrier.

“He looks fine. No signs of dehydration. Tell him to just leave fresh water in its terrarium and he'll eventually start drinking,” he instructed.

“Okay. Thank you. Now you got anything for me,” y/n said playfully.

“Eh, nothing you'd be up for. Some loan sharks looking for enforcement, but that's about it. I'll call as soon as I got a job that'd work for you.”

“Okay. Thanks anyway.”

“I'll talk to you later.” Y/n waved goodbye and left the veterinarians. After dropping the lizard back off with her cousin, she drove over to the address Jimmy had given her. 

She pulled over across the street from the large house and got out of the car, putting her phone and keys in the mailbox before going up to the door and knocking.

“Hello,” a voice asked from the other side.

“Hi! Are you Chuck?”

“Yes, I am. You must be Jimmy's friend.”

“Yeah, I'm y/n,” she said, waiting for him to open the door.

“Did you leave your electronics in the mailbox,” the strange man asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“Very good! Now, would you mind grounding yourself?”

“What,” y/n asked, confused.

“Ground yourself. There should be a metal pole to your right. Would you mind touching it?” Y/n looked around and saw a thin pole sticking out of the ground. As soon as she had touched the tip of it, Jimmy's brother opened the door. “Thank you so much. Please come in.” Y/n nodded and walked into the dark house. She practically jumped when he slammed the door closed behind her.  
“My apologies. I assume Jimmy told you about my condition?”

“A little. He said you were allergic to electricity?”

“That's the jist of it, yes,” Chuck said as he motioned for her to walk farther into the home. “Electronic devices give off certain frequencies and for whatever reason my body has become allergic to them.”

“That's terrible,” y/n said as they came to a stop inside the living room. 

“I get by. But, I do need the occasional help. Which is where you come in,” Chuck said as he sat down, motioning for her to do the same.

“You're expecting a delivery, right?” 

“Yes, some documents for a case me and Jimmy are working on. I'd answer the door myself but I can't very well ask them to leave their electronics outside.”

“I understand. I owe Jimmy a lot so I don't mind helping out when I can,” y/n said with a smile. 

“How do you know Jimmy, if you don't mind me asking,” he asked.

“He had helped my cousins with a case and we met up for breakfast. We became fast friends,” y/n explained.

“I see,” Chuck mumbled with a furrowed brow. “And what do you do?”

“I'm an admin at UNM. I did go to law school for awhile though,” y/n answered with a smile.

“Oh, why'd you quit?”

“It just, um, wasn't the right fit,” the young woman said, not knowing how else to phrase it.

“Ah. I see. I didn't think Jimmy would ever go into law. I was shocked when he told me he'd passed the bar.”

“He's a good lawyer though.”

“He's,” Chuck paused to think, “okay. I don't think he's really found his footing yet.”

“Well, he found this case you're both working on, right? That couldn't have been easy,” y/n said, anxious to defend her friend.

“He did, he did. But it's becoming a little bigger than he can handle. I'm actually thinking of asking him to bring it over to HHM.”

“That's your law firm, correct,” y/n asked in an even tone.

“Yes. Me and George Hamlin started it together,” Chuck said, not realizing what she meant. Y/n stared at him blankly as he got lost in thought. It was only a moment later when there was a knock at the door.

“I'll get it,” she said as she stood up.

“Thank you so much. You can have them just leave the boxes inside the door,” Chuck called after her.

Y/n left as soon as the boxes were delivered, making up some excuse about needing to get home to feed her imaginary cat. She didn't like Chuck very much. And later the next day when Jimmy called her to thank her and tell her that Chuck had gone outside for the first time in years, she wasn't exactly thrilled for him.

“It's like he didn't even notice the electricity,” Jimmy had said over the phone. Y/n could imagine why.


	8. Stress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/n gets back in the game and makes a new friend

Y/n was having a rough day. 

Jimmy had called her earlier to complain about his brother making him turn their case over to HHM (which pissed y/n off), Nacho had been texting her throughout the day (which gave her mixed feelings), and she was on her way to a meet up for a job (which she was more than nervous about).

Y/n took a deep breath before getting out of her car. She’d parked in a parking ramp across the street from the one she was supposed to wait at. She had to stop her knees from shaking as she started walking up the stairs. She wasn't nervous about the job per-say. It was a simple protection job, but it had been awhile since she'd been in the game. She was just happy she didn't have to bring a gun. She made her way over to the corner where the meeting place was set, and was surprised to see the old man she kept running into waiting there. 

“Good morning,” she greeted. He smiled once he recognized her.

“Morning.” 

Y/n went to stand beside him and asked, “how's the dog?”

“She's good,” the older man said with a grin. Their conversation halted when a large man with a shaved head walked over to them.

“This the place where we wait,” the man asked.

“Think so.” The man nodded and stood on the other side y/n. They all waited in silence until a second man walked up to them. He wore a leather jacket and camouflage pants. Y/n had an immediate distaste for him.

“What your guy tell you about the job,” he asked the older man. He took a beat of annoyance before answering.

“Not much.”

“It's a protection job. Civilian. Guy is as green as they come, but we'll be in there to make sure things fly right.  
You been doing this long? I just assume we're all heavy hitters,” he paused to glance at y/n. “Most of us at least.” Y/n rolled her eyes but held her tongue as the annoying man continued. “And it makes sense. The vet recommends the best of the best. Dealing with some of these ethnic types, blood tends to run a little hotter.”

The large man, who was obviously “ethnic”, turned to glare at the man while y/n and her new friend sighed deeply.

“That's just science,” the man carried on. “Physiology. There's historical precedent. Know what I'm saying? So, what you packing,” he asked the older man, gesturing to the bag sitting behind him.

“A pimento,” he answered bluntly.

“Sorry, what?”

“Pimento sandwich.” Y/n smiled to herself as the annoying man grew frustrated.

“That's funny. Pimento. No, I mean, what are you carrying? You know, the piece? What's the make?”

“Pimento is a cheese. They call it the caviar of the south,” the older man said, as serious as ever. Y/n had to stop herself from laughing, covering her mouth to hide her smile. The annoying man glared at her.

“You don't wanna tell me what you're carrying, so be it. But you don't have to be a douche about it.”

“Just told you what I'm carrying.”

“So you're saying you don't have a gun? Is that what you're saying,” he asked. “You have a gun,” he asked the larger man.

“Yeah.”

“What about you sweet cheeks? You got a gun?”

“Nope,” y/n said, keeping her eyes forward. 

“How are you both here without a gun? He's got a gun. I got at least two guns on me that I'll tell you about. I go old school with a Wilson Combat 1911. I got a Glock 22 Gen 3. And those are just the ones I'll tell you about. I mean, what the hell? Really? How do you not pack a gun,” the man finished, shaking his head disapprovingly.

Just then a dorky looking minivan pulled up and parked in front of the group. A short, balding man, who looked like the perfect match to the car, got out and came around the side to face everyone.

“Hi. Hello. My name is Price. Actually, that's not my name. But I have a nephew named Price and I've always kind of liked that name,” he introduced in a whiny voice. “Anyway, we’re not dealing with names today. You can tell me or not tell me your’s. Or a fake one is fine. If I need to talk to you, I'd prefer something other than ‘hey, you’. Either way, you all come highly recommended so thank you.” The group stared at him blankly, choosing not to say anything. 

“First order of business, we have a long ride ahead of us. I have a cooler of water in the car, some soft drinks. I don't drink coffee but there is a diner on the corner. There's also a bathroom in there in case you need to go before we go. Second. Money. Just to be clear that the agreed upon amount of $500 per man is agreed upon. If that's acceptable-”

“Yeah, I have a thought,” the annoying man interrupted.

“Yeah?”

“How about you give me and Man Mountain $1000 each and send Uncle Fester and Goldy Locks here home? They're not carrying a gun. They're useless.”

“Is that true? You didn't bring guns,” the short man asked the two. 

“I didn't think I'd need one,” the older man answered for both of them.

“It's a protection job. It's basic common sense that you need a gun to protect your employer. They're dead weight,” the annoying man argued.

“Tell you what. If I need a gun, I'll just use one of his,” the older man said, keeping his gaze forward.

“Really? One of my guns,” the man said as he turned to look at y/n’s companion who was growing more and more annoyed. “How do you picture that happening exactly?”

“Well, I guess I'm gonna take it from you.”

“That is just special. ‘Take’. How are you going to take one of my guns? Come on, Billy Jackoff. Take my gun from me. Let me see it. Here. I'll make it easy for you.”

Y/n and the others watched as he held out his gun, handle first, to the older man. He sighed and finally turned to face him.

“You can make it not so easy.” The annoying man smiled.

“Sure thing. You got it.” He flipped the gun so it pointed at the older man. Y/n looked amused at the scene, excited to see what her new friend did, while the other two stood by nervously. In a flash the older man snatched the gun out of his hand and emptied the cartridge. “What the,” he asked shocked. He started to advance towards him but in a short second, the older man hit him in the throat, causing him to collapse to the ground, coughing. 

“Okay. Let's see what you got.” He started patting the man down, pulling guns out left and right. “A guy like you, I bet you have an ankle holster.” He pulled out a small gun from the man’s holster and sarcastically said, “That's cute.” Y/n chuckled to herself while the two spectators looked at the scene anxiously. 

“What else?” He pulled out a large gun from his waistband while the man continued coughing and gagging. “Wow. Now that is impressive.” He finally stood up and looked over all the guns he'd pulled off the, now thankfully quiet, man. “So many guns, I don't know which one to use. Would you like one,” he asked y/n sarcastically.

“No, thank you,” she answered with a smile. He returned it before looking at the man standing behind her, his gaze turning threatening.

“How about you? You want one?” The three watched as the man ran away without a word. The man who'd hired them, Price, twitched nervously, not sure what to say or do. The older man simply threw the guns away in a nearby trash can and grabbed his lunch. “Alright. Let's go.”

“But we need four guys,” their employer complained.

“No. We don't. Come on, let's go,” the older man said as he started walking towards the minivan. 

“It'll be fine,” y/n promised as she followed behind him. Price sighed and got into the car, still looking worried. 

As y/n opened the back door to get in, the man asked, “what's your name?”

“Y/n,” she answered.

“It's nice to meet you, y/n. I'm Mike.”

“Nice to meet you, Mike.” The two shared a smile before getting into the van. Mike noticed their driver glance back at the man hacking on the ground.

“He'll be fine. And now that it's just the two of us, we get the full $1000. We agree upon that?”

“Sure,” the balding man croaked out before driving away.

It was a long drive before they reached the meeting point. It was some abandoned warehouse out in the middle of the boonies. At first y/n figured Price must've picked the location, but after thinking over exactly what the deal was for, she wouldn't put it past Nacho to be extra careful.

“I wonder how this is supposed to work. I mean, who goes first? Do I hand over the pills first, or do they give me the money and then I hand over the pills?” Y/n and Mike watched silently as their employer paced around, talking mostly to himself. “I guess it makes sense if we exchange at the same time, right? I mean, that's fair. Maybe we just count to three.”

“Probably the less talk, the better,” Mike chimed in.

“Yeah. I suppose you could really overthink something like this. In any case-”

“Here's what's going to happen,” y/n cut in. “You're gonna take the money. You're gonna count it. If it's all there you hand them the pills. Easy peasy,” she explained. Price opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by a van pulling up into the parking lot and several men getting out.

“I knew we needed four guys,” Price whined. Mike and y/n stood still, their faces emotionless. “I knew it. It's a four man job,” he continued as the group walked up to them. “Hello. Hi,” he greeted awkwardly.

“Do you have it,” Nacho asked.

“I do. Do you have the money?” The criminal handed the soccer dad a bag of money. He took it and began counting. Nacho stared at y/n as he did, his face blank but his eyes grinning.

“Is it all there,” Mike asked, keeping his gaze on the men in front of him.

“We're short twenty. $20. That's fine,” Price said as he started walking towards his car.

“Agreed amount, or no deal,” the older man said, stopping Price in his tracks and earning a glare from Nacho.

“You serious? You're saying I intentionally shorted you?”

“No. Mistakes happen.”

“You're really willing to blow up this deal for $20,” Nacho asked.

“Are you,” y/n challenged. The man looked back at her, raising an eyebrow before slowly taking out his wallet and pulling a bill out. He held it up for Price to take, but let it fall in the breeze just as he reached for it. He held eye contact with her as the man who employed her struggled to grab it.

“It's all here,” Price said once he handed Nacho the box. “Eighty milligram pills. Still factory sealed.” Nacho opened the box and looked over the pill bottles. He looked up at the man and nodded before heading back to his car, his men following him. 

After they drove off the three got back in the minivan and Mike said, “you can pay us now,” once he noticed Price getting lost in his thoughts.

“Oh,” he said before he pulled out some cash from the bag and gave the two their owed amount. “How did you know? How did you guys know not to bring a gun?”

“This $1000, let's just say you're getting a bargain. I put in a lot of leg work before coming here,” Mike explained. “Now, that fella you just met with, name is Ignacio Varga.”

“He runs with a connected crew of drug dealers. This deal he's doing with you, he's doing outside his crew. He doesn't want his bosses to know,” y/n added.

“That's why it was in his best interest that things go very smoothly,” Mike continued. “The lesson is, if you're going to be a criminal, do your homework.”

“Wait. I'm not a bad guy,” Price argued.

“I didn't say you were a bad guy. I said you were a criminal.”

“What's the difference?”

“I've known good criminals and bad cops,” Mike answered. “Bad priests. Honorable thieves. You can be on one side of the law or the other but if you make a deal with someone, you keep your word.”

“You could go home with your money and never do this again,” y/n said. “But you took something that wasn't yours and you sold it for a profit. You're now a criminal.”

“Good one, bad one, that's up to you,” Mike finished.

“I can get more pills,” Price said, squeezing the steering wheel with white knuckles.

“And I'm sure that fella will keep buying. Why don't you get us home? You can sleep on it before you decide.”

With that, Price drove them back to the parking ramp where he picked them up. The annoying man was gone from his spot on the ground by the time they parked and as the minivan drove away and the two started walking towards their respective vehicles, Mike spoke up.

“You know Ignacio Varga. You'd met before.” Y/n nodded.

“A few times, yes.”

“That gonna be a problem?”

“Shouldn't be. If it is, I'll deal with it.” Mike nodded and turned to walk away.

“Have a good night,” he called back.

“You too!” Y/n walked back to her car as the sun began to set. Just as she got in, her alarm chimed, telling her she got a text.

“Should've told me you did protection jobs. I would've hired you for today,” the message read.

“Maybe next time,” y/n replied before driving back to her house to get some sleep after a long and particularly stressful day.


End file.
